DISCLAIMER: It all belongs to Tolkien

NOTES: I KNOW …..FOREVER. But I Have a job that hardly gives me time to breathe and for about a year I felt like – despite the occasional spark – all creativity has been sucked out of me by work …and life. But the old muse stirs again. I hope there is still anybody out there wanting to read. Forgive me for I am a little rusty and this is probably the most abdominal, mushy piece of fluff…but it wanted out ….

Dark Night

„Eomer." He could hear her in his dreams. The king of Rohan groaned and turned over in the ridiculously large bed that one of his ancestors had commissioned. For two centuries the Lords of the Riddermark had slept, been conceived and born in this bed. Still, he remembered how often his uncle had jested about the sheer size of the thing.

"What was Eofled thinking, when he told them to build a bed this big … sometimes it takes me forever to get up in the morning just because I cannot find a way out of that four-posted monstrosity. It's big enough for five people to sleep in! Madness, I tell you!"

But his uncle had not been one to break with tradition. And neither was Eomer.

"Eomer…" the whisper grew more insistend this time. He smiled without opening his eyes. Oh, how his friends would laugh. He was truly besotted with his bride.

"Eomer!" The gentle whisper had turned into a rather loud insistent hiss. To his utter surprise he could feel someone tugging on his pillow.

He bolted upright, only to stare right up into the face of his betrothed.

"Lothiriel!" he yelled in shock.

"Were you expecting somebody else, my liege?" she asked sweetly, but with a sardonic undercurrent. It almost made him smile. Almost …until the true gravity of her standing in his bedroom in the middle of the night sunk in.

"What are you doing here? Are you mad?"

" I wanted to see you." She said simply. " I am seeing to my betrothed. The feast had everybody in such a good mood, that even my maids went looking for …entertainment with your Rohirrim. We hardly had time to see each other the last few days. My brothers and my father and the ever growing wedding party has been keeping you busy with hunting and gaming and riding out … I wanted to talk to you."

"Your women left you all alone?"

Lothiriel pursed her lips. "I may have given them leave…" She could hear him groaning into the pillow. It almost made him laugh …almost.

Lothiriel realized she might sound just a little bit childish, but the way he looked at her vexed her. Eomer stared at her, bemused and at the same time at a loss for words. Three weeks were all that was left of their betrothal, three weeks and she would be his wife. Still, he had the nagging feeling that somewhere in the last few days, there passionate courtship was slowly spinning out of control.

There she stood in a dark blue nightgown that fell down to her ankles, covering her efficiently from neck to toe. In one hand she held a candle to light her way, the other was gingerly holding a woollen plaid together that hung across her shoulders. Her unruly hair was for once tamed into two long braids that dangled down to her hips. She looked at him expectantly, her brows rose in anticipation.

"Well…" she said when he remained silent .

Eomer shook his head, unable to quench the smile on his lips. "I am betrothed to a madwoman. What if they find you here? You are the princess of Dol Amroth. It would be a scandal!"

She rolled her eyes in a manner not very much befitting a princess and future queen.

"Oh ….if the king of Rohan would lower his voice and refrain from yelling as though he was on his way to the stables, calling for his horse…there really is no reason why anyone would burst in here in the dead of the night." She sighed. "Also …what would they do if they did find me here. Force us to get married?"

Eomer gave her a terse look, trying to find fault in her words.

"Three days of festivities and my father, my brothers and all their men are still trying to prove that they can drink just as much as any man of Rohan." Lothiriel blinked, flustered and redirected her narrowing eyes at him.

"How come you are sober?" she asked with just a hint of amused irritation in her tone. Eomer scowled at his bride.

"As I was still nursing a headache from playing a drinking-game with your brother the night before, I thought it best not to drink as much this evening."

"How very clever of you, my lord." Lothiriel whispered and blew out the candle she was holding, simultaneously shrugging the plaid off her shoulders.

"Now if you would please make some room for me in that sea of linens that you call a bed, I would be very much obliged to you. My feet are starting to feel numb. Your room is very cold, my king. You really should have a fire in that fireplace. There is no reason to freeze to death, you are not campaigning in the fields." She told him matter of factly. She really could not find a logical reason for his sudden need for protocol. For a man with considerable experience with women, he was acting surprisingly dense.

"What of you father and your brothers?" he hissed into the darkness.

He could hear her soft laughter in the dark as he found himself indeed moving over to accommodate her - against his better judgement. The heavy down bed rustled as she slid beneath the covers.

"Believe me, Eomer. If their own snoring combined is not loud enough to wake them, I very much doubt that anything else will. Not even an army of mountain trolls marching straight through the hall of Edoras would make enough noise to disturb their sleep!"

"Say that again…" he whispered, suddenly serious.

Lothiriel could not see him in the pitch-black darkness, but she could hear the sound of his voice changing.

"I only meant to say that my father has a very sound sleep…"

"Not that …" he chuckled. "My name. I believe I have hardly heard you say my name before." She had addressed him with titles, hardly ever by his name …even during the festivities of their engagement. It had only struck him as odd now and Eomer had to admit, he quiet like the sound of her whispering his name.

"Eomer …" Lothiriel whispered, hoping that her voice did not sound so brittle and hoarse as she heard it in her own ears. She carefully reached out one hand to make out his position in the gigantic bed.

"Why did you come here?"

" I wanted to see you." She answered truthfully. "We will be married in a fortnight."

"Three weeks."

"Fine …three weeks. And then you will take me to this bed and make me your wife." She hesitated "It really is a …. very, very large bed…"

She could hear him laugh at her remark.

"I know….it is ridiculous, is it not?"

Lothiriel could not help but giggle. "Who builds a bed this big? And why?"

"I know …I don't know what my ancestor was thinking." They both laughed.

When silence fell, Lothiriel sighed. "I just wanted to be close to you. We have not been alone since you gave me the ring. I wanted to see you, without everybody watching and listening."

Her hand found his shoulder. Eomer took her cold hand in his, kissing the inside of her palm before he even realized what he was doing. He was sure she must have heard at least some stories of his wild, rougish days before so much responsibility had been placed on his shoulders …before the shadows of Mordor had tried to swallow the world, before he had become king of Rohan. Still…her being here with him was different somehow. She tempted him with her soft voice and her sweet smell, tempted him more than he thought wise to admit. She could not see the smile he gave her.

"I think I just …want to lay here with you in my arms while we sleep."

"I would like that."

Eomer moved closer to her, gathering Lothiriel into his arms. He could feel her warm body folding itself against him with a content sigh. He could feel her breath where her head rested on his soulder. His skin muffled her laughter as she settled more comfortable against him. Lothiriel reached up one hand, gingerly touching his face in the dark. Her cool, soft fingers traced the lines of his features as though she was trying to imprint them in her mind. Eomer did not know what to say. He took her hand, bringing it to his lips again to place a soft kiss to the tips of her fingers. Her weight shifted under the covers as she propped herself up on one elbow next to him. He still held ont o her hand, turning it over, pressing his lips to the soft skin of her wrist…feeling her pulse speed up. Lothiriel gave a surprised gasp. Then his lips were on her mouth, capturing her bottom lip before he pulled back, only to kiss her again. Softly, tenderly but with growing passion.

Lothiriel let herself sink back into the pillows, feeling him moving with her. She tilted her head back as his lips made a path from her jawline to her ear. She could feel his sharp intake of breath when she tangled one hand in his hair. A sound so familiar, so precious to her now that it sent a shiver through her. She did not feel cold anymore, not even her feet. The princess arched her back, feeling his lips on her collarbone like the wings of a butterfly. Her other hand, free now once more snaked up to his arm, then his back. She could feel his warm skin underneath his shirt, cords of warm, hard muscle stretching and flexing underneath his skin. Before she knew it, she had made a fist, pulling at his shirt. Eager to touch the warm, warm skin of his back. She gasped again …only to find him pulling back from her violently, his breathing ragged.

"We cannot be doing this" Eomer whispered harshly.

She was too soft, to warm, to yielding in his embrace.

Lothiriel sat up, her face hot and her own breathing fast.

"Did I displease you ….my lord?" For once she was glad that he could not see her blushing bright red. " I may not be skilled …in this …yet…"

There was a raw chuckle in the dark.

"You are indeed a madwoman…..to even think that is the reason!"

The thought of her being unskilled had never even crossed his mind. She followed her instincts, let her feelings lead the way and if her fervent, unabashed reactions were any indication, her passion matched his own.

"To have you here is a big temptation, Lothiriel." He finally said, his voice a little raw. "You tempt me more than you can ever know. Forgive me, my love." The words had left his mouth before he realized what he was saying. For a moment they both froze, the silence heavy around them.

"Am I?" Lothiriel finally whispered, breathless.

"What?"

"Your love?"

Eomer hesitated, not sure how to give voice to feelings that were quiet new to him in some ways. "From the moment we first talked on the terrace, there has not been an hour when you have not been in my thoughts." He told her in his severe tone.
"Often I have longed to hold you in my arms."

" Then hold me, King of Rohan…for I am yours." She whispered softly.

" I do not think that would be wise…"

Lothiriel reached out and found his.

"Hold me, my lord. Hold me while we sleep."