The light escort was placed with Imrahil's knights and the party moved inside the castle proper where they were shown to their rooms and given the opportunity to wash away the travel stains. Soon after, they were served a meal on one of the many verandas overlooking the ocean. Distantly, the sound of the waves came to their ears as they dined on cold meats and fresh bread with clotted cream and an astonishing variety of fruits. Fine wines and unfermented juices accompanied the meal. Afterwards, Lady Lothiriel offered to escort Eowyn around the grounds while the men retreated to Imrahil's private office to conclude their business transactions.
"I hope," said Imrahil with a soft sigh as he seated himself in a chair behind his desk, "that you are satisfied that I only wish to help you."
Eomer brushed at a place on his tunic. "I have always known, Prince Imrahil, but my nature does not trust easily."
"So I have noticed." He extracted parchment and ink from his desk. "I understand that the betrayal of your uncle's advisor nearly cost your people their very lives, my lord, but you must learn to trust. Not all are twisted inside by their desires."
Eomer looked up and met Imrahil's gaze. "Grima is only part of the treachery, for what he did cost my uncle his only son and deprived the people of the Mark of a fine warrior. He would have made an excellent king."
Imrahil laid aside his quill and tented his fingers beneath his chin. He realized that Eomer needed to talk out his grief and his loneliness and decided to be the supportive shoulder for the younger man. "Indeed, Grima did much to break the back of the Rohirrim. He failed, did he not?"
"Indeed, Prince, but at great cost and only through Gandalf's interference. I will never forgive him his treachery."
"Is this because of what he did to his people or for what he took from you, personally."
"Both. Either. Does it matter?" Eomer's dark eyes flamed passionately as he thought of Theodred.
"Only to you." Imrahil softly replied. "When you remember Theodred, what do you recall most easily?"
"His laughter," Eomer answered promptly. The way his body felt against mine in the darkness, he thought to himself. The way his dark hair flowed over his shoulders and his blue eyes sparkled in the sun. His kisses. "His horsemanship."
Imrahil studied Eomer carefully, noting what wasn't said as well as what was. He also realized that Eomer spoke first of something as personal as laughter and then amended his observation with something so banal it was almost impersonal. When Eomer offered no other comments, Imrahil thought to push him a little harder. "Nothing more, my lord? Your grief spoke to me of far more intimacies." He watched as Eomer's temper displayed itself in the rising flush along high cheekbones. "He was, after all, your cousin."
“Let us conclude our business, my lord, for the day draws to a close and tomorrow I would have my sister and I prepare to return to the Mark."
Imrahil moved his hand over the parchment, smoothing the soft paper with the tips of his fingers. "You loved him too much to let him go. But, like Faramir, you must learn to love again lest your grief eat you alive inside. I said as much to you at Theodred's mound. Will you never learn to listen, to trust?"
Eomer leapt from his chair, and with both hands planted on Imrahil's desk, leaned towards the older man. "What does it matter to you? Why is it you persist in prowling through my mind like wolves pawing at a carcass? What are you after? Speak plainly, Prince Imrahil."
"I thought I had spoken plainly, King Eomer. Perhaps you simply did not understand."
Eomer glanced beyond Imrahil, staring out of the window. From here, he could see the harbor. "I am not for sale."
Imrahil laughed. "Your pride and stubbornness, my lord, alternately confound and amuse me. I know that Theodred's passing is still fresh in your mind. I know you mourn the one you loved above all others—I have seen it as you stand beside his mound. I am a patient man; I will wait. But I am not so patient as to watch you mourn yourself in to a mound next to Theodred's. I will not allow you to do that to yourself."
Eomer dragged his eyes from the sight of the harbor and stared down his nose at Imrahil. "Will not allow?" He asked through stiff lips and clenched teeth.
Imrahil rose and leaned his own hands on the desk. "I would clothe you in kisses, Lord Eomer; place my heart in your hands to toss aside or treasure, as you would. Long has it been since I've seen one as strong and courageous as you. I have no power over you. You need not fear me. What I say to you is for your own good. My heart aches to see you as you are: confused, hurt, angry. Alone. Will you refuse the gifts I offer?"
Eomer felt the room swim. He was nose to nose with the prince, staring deeply into eyes that were as gray as the distant horizon. For the life of him, he could not break that gaze; could not break away from the spell the older man wove about him. He wanted to deny Imrahil. However, he could not for he knew that Imrahil had seen his open grief and had guessed, more by his silence than by his words, what he'd shared so illicitly with Theodred.
"That is the real reason you were so angry with Faramir, was it not?" Imrahil lowered his voice, used the powerful timbre to soothe Eomer. "Is it not the reason you glared so balefully after King Elessar as he left Edoras? He has what you do not."
Eomer fixed on the last sentence and marshaled his thoughts much in the way he'd marshaled men under his command. "Nay, Prince Imrahil, you are far off the mark. I do not covet your nephew."
"Play your game to the end, then King Eomer. I have laid before you all that I have to offer." He sat back down and drew the parchment towards him. "Fifty horses for one hundred sacks of grain, each sack weighing fifty pounds. Is that to your satisfaction?" The quill scratched over the parchment as Imrahil noted their spoken agreement.
"Aye, it is," Eomer sat down in his chair, able to think and breathe again. He felt weak, exposed, after their explosive encounter. He also felt as if something had been lost, but he could not think what. He understood what Imrahil offered him, he heard the offer clear enough. To take it was to betray Theodred and he was not yet ready to give up on his love any more than he was ready to admit aloud what Theodred had meant to him. As alone as he was, he was not ready to spill his heart out to this stranger. He was not ready to give his heart again. Nor did he want the responsibility of holding another's heart in his hands. He regretted that for he felt that Imrahil was sincere.
"My sons," spoke Imrahil calmly, "should return in another day or so. I hope you will stay to meet them. Your sister deserves a chance to meet some one of her caliber, someone who will not fear her strength or her courage."
"You are thinking of a match between Eowyn and one of your sons?"
"Why not? They are princes. She is the daughter of kings. If she meets one of them and decides he is suitable and he decides the same, will you stand in the way?"
"Nay, I would not." Eomer thought of his lovely sister and all the pain and humiliation she'd suffered. She deserved the opportunity and that he could not deny her. "Two days should not make much difference."
Imrahil finished drawing up the document and slid it across the desk. "Good. If you like, you can send the grain on ahead. I can arrange an escort for you and your sister when you are ready to return to Rohan."
Eomer glanced down at the parchment, quickly reading the finely etched words and then took up the quill from Imrahil's hand. He signed his own name at the bottom, next to Imrahil's.
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