Two weeks later, Eomer rode through the gates of Dol Amroth for the first time with Eowyn at his side. Imrahil led the way beneath the portcullis and into the port city. Everywhere Eomer looked, there were knights standing tall and proud in their blue and gold livery. Their gray eyes sparkled beneath their helms and their brown hair spilled on to their shoulders. The neatly ordered stone city stretched along the delta and tall ships with white sails bobbed on the currents. The smell of the sea and of the river mingled together in the air and gulls cried out as they drifted on the perpetual breeze.
Necessity had forced Eomer to concede to Imrahil and they had agreed on the exchange of horses for grain. Behind Eomer several warriors rode with fifty of Rohan's prized horses strung behind them. Heavy wagons pulled by large, sturdy draft horses made up the rearguard. In exchange for the horses, Rohan would receive a shipment of grain that, if not exploited, would see them through to the spring planting. Eomer decided to inspect the grain himself before turning the horses over to Dol Amroth, though he did not really believe the prince would try to cheat him. This was his rationale behind the trip to the seaside city. In reality, he was curious about Dol Amroth and hoped beyond hope that Eowyn would find a worthy husband among the ranks of Imrahil's sons. A permanent alliance with Dol Amroth would benefit Rohan greatly. He never thought of Lothiriel, for he had no desire, as yet, to find a mate, though he knew in his heart that he should.
At a warehouse, they stopped and Imrahil climbed down off his stallion and motioned for Eomer to do the same. "Come, my lord, this will take but a moment. We will leave the wagons and the handlers here as we cannot take them further up into the city without difficulty. They will all be safe here, on my honor, and will not find any lack in hospitality or comfort."
Eomer jumped from Firefoot and motioned for the men with the wagons to dismount. Eowyn and the few men acting as guard moved their horses aside to let the handlers pass.
"This is one of our warehouses," continued Imrahil as he nodded to an armed guard. As the guard stepped aside, he pulled on a metal handle set in the middle of the thick wooden door. With a loud screech, the door opened, revealing a cavernous room stacked from floor to ceiling with white sacks of grain. Dust hung thickly in the air and a rich, pungent aroma wafted out in to the street. "As you can see, Lord Eomer, there is plenty to go around. Please, feel free to look inside." He gestured with his hand for Eomer to enter ahead of him.
Eomer stepped forward and pulled down the closest sack. It landed on the stone floor with a thud and he quickly pulled open the drawstring. He ran his hands through the wheat kernels, letting them sift through his fingers. The dust choked him and he coughed. "This looks fine."
"Have your men check each sack, my lord, to make sure they meet with your satisfaction before they load them on to the wagons." Imrahil encouraged. "Wheat is not all that can be obtained should you decide you need rice or corn for your horses and farm animals."
Eomer straightened and motioned his men inside. "No, Prince Imrahil, I am happy to have this. My people will have bread for the winter and for that I am grateful." And, oddly, he really meant his words. For, although he saw Imrahil as a vague, uncertain threat, the generosity overwhelmed him. Upon first entering Dol Amroth, Eomer immediately noticed the stables and the fine horses quartered therein. He understood that Imrahil was extending to him and Rohan charity without making it appear so. His pride railed against it, but his practical side knew that without the grain his people would starve. Swallowing his pride had not been his undoing, merely painful.
Imrahil stepped behind Eomer, breathing in the scent of horses and the unique smell that belonged solely to the Rohirrim. "Do not allow your pride to stand in the way of your needs, my lord."
Eomer cast a glance over his shoulder. "I have abandoned pride as easily as I once abandoned hope, Prince Imrahil."
"I do not ask that you abandon it, my lord, only that you allow it to bend." As the men crowded into the warehouse, Imrahil backed outside and gave orders to the guard for the billeting of Eomer's men. When he was assured that the Eorlings were well provisioned, he climbed back on to his horse. "Lady Eowyn, we have but a little further to go and then you will see one of the finest views in all Middle earth."
"And what view is that, my lord?" Eowyn asked politely.
"I will not yet say, for I want it to be a surprise. Lord Eomer? If all is to your satisfaction, we should continue on our way."
Eomer left final instructions to his men and then rejoined Imrahil, Eowyn and the light guard. The city grew more closely packed as they came closer to the castle and the streets more narrow. The horses steadily climbed higher and their steel shod feet rang on the cobblestones. They passed into a tunnel where they could only travel two abreast. Torches flickered on either side of them as they passed, lighting their way in the darkness. They came out of the tunnel much higher up and Imrahil brought his mount to a halt.
He pointed back down the tall cliff. "There, Lady Eowyn, is the sight I wanted you to see."
Stretched below them lay Dol Amroth, laid out in perfect miniature. From their vantage point, they could see the tall ships in their berths and the men standing in the crow's nests. White sands stretched along the headland and rolling wave after wave endlessly attacked the shore and retreated. The water was bluest closest to the shore but as it stretched to the horizon, it became darker, tinged with green until it met the blue sky and turned gray in the distance. The afternoon sun sparkled upon the water, reflecting brightly back to the sky.
Eowyn stared with wide eyes at the rise and swell of the waves. For as far as she could see, there was nothing but water as she stared over the cliffs, beyond the city. She felt so very small and insignificant. "'Tis truly breathtaking," she whispered at last. In truth, she was awed by the sight before her, and trembled as the beautiful scene tugged at her heart, as if calling to her.
"I had hoped you would like it," Imrahil smiled. "And you, Lord Eomer? Does this compare to the grassy plains of Rohan?"
"Indeed, Prince, I have never seen the likes of it."
"Let us hope that this is not the only time you will ever view the place that I call home," Imrahil answered. He nudged his horse and continued towards the castle.
Around a slight bend, they encountered a gate with two square towers on either side. From window slits, guards saw every one who traveled up the path. As the riders clattered through the gates, men came rushing out of various outbuildings to greet their lord and his guests. Stable boys grabbled the horses' reigns and held the mounts steady as the party dismounted while servants came from inside the castle proper to greet Imrahil.
The courtyard was long and narrow with small swaths of neatly trimmed lawn interspaced with cobbled walkways and surrounded on three sides by walls and on the fourth by the castle. Stone steps led up to a wide landing and the front door. Upon the landing stood a tall lady with long brown hair and light blue eyes. Her gown was white beneath a blue mantle that flowed behind her in the breeze. As the group moved towards the stairs, she detached herself from the servants.
"Father," she cried as she threw herself into Imrahil's welcoming embrace.
"Ah, Lothiriel, glad I am to be home.," He he said against her hair. Stepping away, he held her at arm's length for a moment, taking in the sight of her. "Where are your brothers?"
"They have not yet returned from patrol along the coast. They were gone before your message arrived. I hope they will return in a day or so."
Imrahil sighed. He had hoped they would be able to greet the King of Rohan
and his lovely sister. Hopefully, they would arrive before the Eorlings left
for Rohan. "I do not suppose that it can be helped. Come, greet our guests."
She stepped away from her father and curtsied gracefully. "Welcome to Dol Amroth, my lord and lady. Deeds of your valor have all ready come to us and we are honored to share our home with you." Her voice was low and steady, much like her father's. Moving forward, she first came to stand before Eomer and she took his hands in her smaller ones. "King of Rohan, may I express my grief for the loss of your uncle."
"You are gracious, my lady. Thank you for your welcome. May I present my sister, Lady Eowyn?"
Lothiriel tilted her head slightly and peered around Eomer's mass and studied the proud woman just behind him. "Welcome to you as well, shield maiden. Even here in Dol Amroth, we have heard your praises sung and we honor you."
Stunned into silence, Eowyn barely remembered to offer a curtsy of her own.
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