Title: Marshal's Wife

Genre: Romance

Rating: M

Pairing: Éomer/Lothíriel

Disclaimer: The Lord of The Rings is the property of J. R. R. Tolkien and his estate. This is a work of fanfiction, written for the enjoyment of myself and others. No finanfical profit is made by writing this.

Summary: "And here, in the front of these witnesses, I bless your union." A "Heart's Desire" spinoff.

Author's Note: Someone seriously needs to come and take away my computer or perhaps just knock me out when I have ideas.

When I was posting the chapters of Heart's Desire that take place before Éomer rides for war and Lothíriel is lost, Talia119 wondered whether the two would marry before his departure. Well, you know how that went, but the idea has not left me since. It got to the point that when I couldn't sleep lats night, I sat by my laptop and started to write. This is a short story of how things might have gone if they had indeed married before Éomer left. I'd apologise for all this Éomer/Lothíriel spam but that would mean I'd have to actually be sorry, and honestly there's never enough É/L in the world so there.

This won't be a long story, though: I can promise only two or three chapter at tops. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Up above the castle of Hornburg, there was a stone terrace. It was not very big and people rarely came there – in fact, not many knew of it in the first place – but from there, one could look over the Deep and see far away to the open lands – all the way to Fangorn, if you were an elf, they said. Why people did not often come there was because it was usually quite windy up there. In that height, one quickly began to think that wind might just take a hold of you and toss you over the edge.

But this morning, there was no breath in the air. It was very quiet, like it often is on that moment of dawn when the whole world seems to almost be holding its breath, like each sunrise was a miracle. And truly, such a place was the only real option for the ceremony: up there in the light of morning, one could almost feel that all the concerns of the world were far away.

Indeed, it was precisely that quiet moment of dawn and one would have expected that all those in residence would have been still asleep or just waking up.

However, there were altogether seven people on the stone terrace. Four of them stood aside: a blonde woman who did not seem to know whether she should smile brilliantly or sob silently into her handkerchief, a ragged man of Dúnedain, an elf, and a dwarf. The four of them were watching the three others, who stood only couple feet away.

The white-clad man was the oldest of them all, and there was a gentle smile on his face as he spoke quietly. His words were those of love, hope and devotion. On the front of him, two people stood facing each other: a tall man of Rohan, clad in simple clothes of green and brown, and a slender woman in blue whose appearance revealed she had blood of Númenor.

The man and woman were looking at each other in a way that suggested they did not even acknowledge the presence of others. In fact, their gazes were speaking in volumes at one another, as if there was an entire conversation going on between the two of them. He held her hands in his, almost like he was supporting something sacred.

"And here, in the front of these witnesses, I bless your union. Éomer of Aldburg, this is your wife: protect her with your strong arm and cherish her for all the days of your life, for she is your heart. Lothíriel of Dol Amroth, this is your husband: stand beside him and offer him your aiding hand in all the struggles of your shared years, for he is your strength."

The Rohir brought her hands to his lips, placing kisses on her fingers, and she looked at him with a blissful smile. Then they turned to look at the wizard, and she placed her left hand on the top of his right one.

A fond smile passed on Mithrandir's face when he produced a white ribbon from somewhere and bound it about the pair's joined palms. Then he let his own hands hover over them in a gesture of blessing.

"Go and be at peace. Place your trust in each other, for where there is love, there is always light."

And Éomer turned towards his wife and kissed her, and Lothíriel wrapped her free arm about his neck. She answered the kiss so enthusiastically that she lost her balance and he steadied her, and no matter what dark loomed in the future, there was this, they were wed, and he would always be hers.

Their embrace and kiss went on for long; and really, so occupied they were with each other that it took Gimli clearing his throat for the young couple to become aware of their surroundings again. When they turned to look at their friends, they wore almost identical looks of bliss.

Aragorn approached the two first. Resting his hand on Éomer's shoulder, he smiled at the newly-wed couple.

"I am happy for you both, my friends", he said softly. "May your time together be blessed."

"Thank you, Aragorn", said the Marshal of the Mark and cast a look of adoration at the woman beside him. The others came to congratulate them too, and Erfréa hugged Lothíriel for a long while before she found again her handkerchief to pat her eyes with. Gimli gave a mighty hug for both their midsections, while Legolas just smiled in that quiet way of his and said something in Sindarin that sounded like a blessing.

"I will take care of your uncle. I'll tell him that you will ride for Dunharrow tomorrow", Aragorn told Éomer. Then a smile touched his face, and it made him look somehow so much younger.

"Go and be together, for in these times, each moment of light and love is more precious than all the jewels of the world", Mithrandir urged, and the two needed no other prompt.

It had been Éomer's idea.

When the aftershocks of their lovemaking had started to fade, he had looked down upon her and the only way to describe his look then was "blissful" - she knew he couldn't look like that because she possessed any particular skill yet, but she decided it was because he was just as dazed because of this actually happening... because of being able to share this closeness and intimacy with her. She had felt a bit dizzy and so happy that it made her weak, and Lothíriel had been been fairly sure that she would not have been able to support herself at all for the moment.

"Marry me. Marry me today", he had pleaded, and his voice had been thick with emotion. She had briefly thought of how much in trouble she would be if she agreed, but then she had looked at the man above her again and all thoughts of her family's disapproval had disappeared. What did it matter what her uncle or father would say? She knew where her heart was... she had never been so sure about anything as she was about Éomer. And she would be damned if she ever let anyone tell her again what she should do with her life and who she should be with.

It was meaningless how she would be berated afterwards. What mattered was the man she had become to love so much.

So she had said yes, and a strange little noise had escaped from his throat. He had kissed her again and things had quickly gotten very interesting once more. Yet miraculously enough had actually gotten few hours of sleep that night, but before sun rose, they had gone to see Mithrandir and ask him to wed them. With the wizard's support, it would be easier to explain everything later; Imrahil liked Gandalf and Théoden King too had much respect for him, and if they could win the two of them, Denethor would have to comply.

Gandalf's face had not betrayed what he really thought of the request made to him on the small hours just before sunrise by two rather desperate-looking people, but he could not be negative for he had agreed to wed them. As for the witnesses, Mithrandir's three companions had been more than happy to be there, along with Erfréa.

And so, as the sun slowly rose on that morning of early March, after one great battle and the next one looming just ahead, Princess Lothíriel of Dol Amroth was wed to Marshal Éomer of the Riddermark.

It was his chamber they ventured to. As a member of the royal house, Éomer had his own room in Hornburg that was kept ready for him, though his business as the Third Marshal rarely brought him here. As such, the furnishings were very meager, but it was still more comfortable than in her chamber. For one, the bed was not just a narrow bunk, and it also felt warmer.

Once the door was closed behind them, he pulled her into an embrace and kissed her. The kiss was long, gentle, and they lingered in it for a lengthy moment. After a while, Éomer pulled back slightly.

"I know it's not much", he said quietly, brushing his fingers through her hair. "This... well, I did not plan it to go this way."

Lothíriel smiled and placed her arms about his neck.

"It's all right, my dear", she told him softly and briefly kissed him. "Actually, I kind of like how simple this is. Nobody fussing about us or making a number out of it... just the two of us, all alone. It's fine."

That made him smile.

"We'll have a proper wedding when I've returned. In fact, I fear both our families will insist on it... the heir to the throne can't just go and marry", he commented and kissed her again.

"I think he can", she informed him, but then she decided there had been enough of talking already, and she fully focused on kissing him properly. A groan rose deep from his throat and he grasped her hips tightly for a moment, until his fingers started to impatiently tug at her gown. An agonizing need for him was starting to build inside her and eagerly she helped him to remove the dress. Her undergarments quickly followed, and as soon as she was rid of clothing, he lifted her up and quickly carried her to the bed.

Her husband wasted no time in removing his own clothes. Then he joined her on the bed and he pulled her close; there was something almost desperate about the way he touched her. But then, in the middle of one kiss, he pulled back just slightly and looked at her in concern.

"What is it?" Lothíriel asked.

"I cannot imagine it'll be very comfortable for you", he said at last and sounded kind of awkward, "after your first time..."

"It's fine. I want to do this. Please", she said quickly. Well, she was sore, but she'd be damned if she let that bother her now. "Just... be gentle, will you?"

"Of course, dear wife", he said softly and carried on from where he had left, which quickly re-ignited the passion. Lothíriel remembered briefly worrying to herself if he thought her very clumsy and unskilled, but if that was so, it didn't show; instead, when her fingers traveled over his skin and she studied his body with her hands, she could see he had trouble containing himself.

"My wife", he moaned and looked down on her with that same incredulous face he had had last night, as if he wasn't quite convinced this was really happening. "My wife."

"Husband", she answered, and finally it hit her: he truly was her husband now. After all the years of thinking him something like a faraway star, it was hard to grasp that now there was this bond between them... and though her father might be angry when he heard that she had married without his consent, there was really nothing anyone could do to make it undone. By Mithrandir's blessing, her fate was now irrevocably intertwined with Éomer's.

He kissed her and slowly entered her, and she gasped at the still unfamiliar sensation of him being so close...

"Are you well?" he asked and held himself in place, supporting his weight on his arms.

"I'm fine", she answered and shifted, feeling him move too. She breathed deeply and smiled at him in an attempt to console him. Suddenly, she felt his hand move, and then she felt his thumb brush over that particular tender spot, and the intimate touch had her hips jerking; she moaned and as his fingers caressed her, all thoughts of being uncomfortable left her.

After that, it was all gasps and moans and bodies meeting in this timeless dance of passion, and Lothíriel vaguely remembered him murmuring half-coherent love confessions in Rohirric, and apparently he was going to ride down the very Black Tower for her, and she mumbled something in agreement as finally she saw stars again. Afterwards, he gathered her in his embrace and she dozed off, feeling more content and at peace she would have thought possible.

"Lothíriel."

His soft voice brought her back to the waking world. Stretching, the newly-wed Princess enjoyed that moment between sleep and awake one moment more and then opened her eyes. He was sat beside her, golden hair mess about his face, sitting cross-legged, and gloriously naked while nibbling at a piece of bread.

"There's food. You should wake up and eat something, dear wife", he said and gestured vaguely at the tray beside him.

"Eat in a bed?" she asked and smiled at him. "I think that's on the list of forbidden things."

"Is it now?" he inquired as he picked up an apple from the tray. "Is it more forbidden than getting married to a Marshal of the Mark at sunrise?"

Lothíriel punched at his arm and sat up.

"It's the worst thing one could do, yes", she said and frowned. "What on earth am I going to tell Father when he hears of this?"

"Let me worry about him. I'm the one who persuaded you to do this, after all", said her husband. "Your father is not a tyrant. He won't have you flogged for marrying me."

"Hmm. Let's hope so. He should understand it when I tell him that these are not the times for waiting", she said. But then she pushed her father out of her mind as she had other things to focus on. She cast a look at the tray of food, "Where did this all come from?"

"I believe it is a gift from your friend – she had left the tray behind the door. Very thoughtful of her, I must say. I didn't look forward to getting dressed and going to the kitchens to find some food", he answered as he poured some mead for her.

"I must thank her later", Lothíriel commented as she inspected the tray. There was bread, some cheese, fruit, nuts, several ample slices of salted pork, along with the flask of mead. It certainly wasn't a grand meal but it felt like that to Lothíriel... for it was the first one she shared with Éomer as a wife and a husband.

"You know, this is actually kind of nice. Even if this is not how I'd have thought we'd be wed", she said after a moment.

"Mm. I like it too", he agreed. "I still would have liked a proper honeymoon, though... have you all to myself for a week or two."

"Would that even be possible for you?" she asked.

"Uncle can manage without me for a while. But I can't manage without you", said her new husband and leant over to kiss her.

"And I'll be waiting for you", she told him solemnly as he pulled back. Then she decided to bring the discussion to lighter topics. "What should I do once you go? Should I... hmm, make it known that I am your wife now?"

He thought about her question for a moment as he chewed his apple.

"That is a good question, yes... it does change your status now that we're married. And for all we know, a child may have already been conceived", he said thoughtfully. "For one, it makes you the member of the royal house. I'll write some notes for you, where I declare our marriage in case some fool tries to accuse you of lying, and..."

His face became grave at that and Lothíriel looked at him curiously.

"And what?" she asked.

"And if it becomes apparent that you are with child, you should be named the regent in case Uncle and I do not return", he answered at length.

"But you will. You will come back", said the Princess. She grabbed his hand and squeezed his fingers; he managed to give her a smile.

"Yes. I will find my way through this dark... and back to you", he promised, lifting her hand to his lips so that he could kiss it.

"Have you given any thought as to where we will live once you come home?" Lothíriel asked after a while.

"Either in Aldburg or in Edoras, I suppose. Whichever suits you the best, though I think us both would do well if we settled in Meduseld. You'll be the Lady of the Golden Hall, after all, and Éowyn would be able to help you to get familiar with what is required of you. And Uncle will probably need me... I could use his help too. To become a good king, I mean", he mused, half to himself.

"You will do well. You'll be a good king. Just as you are a good man", Lothíriel told him, which brought a smile on his lips.

"Well, you are my wife. Of course you'd say that", he said. But then his eyes turned serious again. "My wife. I will never get used to saying that."

She smiled and climbed into his lap, and after that, other things than talking or food became more pressing – things that occupied them for a long while.

The soft light of late afternoon filled the chamber. Dust particles floated in the air, and Lothíriel watched their slow dance in light with half-open eyes. Nestled against her husband's warm body, she felt safe and peaceful. It was hard to believe this bliss could only last for today, and that tomorrow he would be gone. Idly she ran her fingers back and forth on his skin, feeling the strong muscles, the golden hair on his chest, the old battle scars of fights long past. He lay so quietly that one could almost have believed he was asleep.

Lothíriel sighed and snuggled closer. She was feeling so sore that it'd be a wonder if she would even be able to walk the next day. The man beside her had some stamina; she had commented on it and he had let out a muffled laugh.

"You should have seen me when I was ten years younger than now", he had said. That had made her snort and she had tried not to think of too much of the other women he had been with. Luckily he had done things then that had effectively distracted her from anything else.

She had, however, told him that perhaps he should ask his uncle for a leave of week or two once he'd return, because she didn't think they would be able to leave the bed for quite some time.

"Does it ever bother you?" she asked after a while. "I mean, that I'm 8 years younger than you. Am I too childish? Inexperienced?"

"Lothíriel, you're being absurd", he told her in a steady voice as he lifted her head so that he could see her face. "Your age does not bother me. It never has, really. I... I've never seen a girl or woman of any particular age when I've looked at you. I just see someone I love beyond anything in this world."

That moved her and almost made her cry. But she couldn't start sobbing here and now when she was so happy. So, instead, she smiled.

"You do know how to talk to a woman, dearest husband", she told him.

"We Rohirrim are natural lovers", he said nonchalantly, humour sparkling in his dark eyes.

Lothíriel climbed to sit in his lap, and then she leant down so that her lips were almost on his, and her dark hair cascaded about their faces like a curtain of black silk.

"Then love me some more, O Marshal of Mark", she whispered.

"I don't think I could love you any more than I already do", he answered softly, running his hands over her back. Then he smiled, "But I will try."

And that he did.

The night had fallen and outside, the moon was riding high. Lothíriel was already fast asleep but Éomer was not quite ready for rest yet. Instead, he was sat at his desk, writing the notes he had promised for her before.

He hoped those would not be needed, but he knew it was necessary for him to provide her with these notes. After all, the wedding ceremony had been very small and not exactly how the Rohirrim usually married – and Marshals even less. It had been his idea and he'd be damned if he left her without protection and safety while he was gone. Here in Rohan, it was as easy as that: a man was known to keep his word and marriages of haste were often seen in the Mark during times of war. Really, Éomer was fairly sure that the Rohirrim would think nothing of him taking the Princess as his wife; the only thing they - and his men in particular - would complain about would be the two of them robbing people of a good excuse to celebrate. The real problem would be convincing her Gondorian family that this was indeed an abiding marriage.

Éomer had written three notes entirely; one he would give to Lothíriel, one to Erkenbrand, and one for Gamling. For his uncle, he'd bring the word himself. Both were good men and they would keep her safe while he was gone. He'd tell her go to Edoras, where she would be safe with Éowyn... and there he'd hopefully meet her again once the deeds of war were done.

With a sigh, he sealed his letters and stretched. It was scarcely past midnight and he could still catch a few hours of sleep, which would be most necessary. Who knew when he'd be able to rest properly again?

So he returned to bed and crawled under the covers, seeking the warmth of her body. Pulling his wife into his embrace, Éomer let himself sink into few more hours of this waking dream where she was finally his own.