Eowyn followed Lothiriel into the dungeons below the castle. Long disused, the dungeons were thick with dust and cobwebs. A dank smell permeated the air and the limestone bedrock on which the castle stood oozed moisture. Intermittently, torches smoked in brackets and Lothiriel held her own torch aloft to add to the pale light. At Lothiriel’s insistence, they wore heavy linen shifts and breeches and sturdy boots. She led them to a rusted grating and pulled it open with a loud screech that jarred Eowyn’s nerves. She then went down another corridor and stopped at blank wall.
“In the old days, this door presented an escape route for the family, should the castle fall under siege. Mostly, the family uses it, when we use it at all, to get down to the beach. When I was a child, my mother would take us down to dig for clams.”
Eowyn did not ask what door, instead, she inquired about the clams. Laughing, Lothiriel quickly explained about the succulent mussels and how they were scooped from their shells and fried. As she spoke, Lothiriel tugged a secret catch and a section of wall fell away to reveal a sharply curved turnkey staircase. The passage was unlit and had a rotten odor that made Eowyn step back with her nose crinkled.
“It’s only the sea,” Lothiriel said as she took Eowyn’s hand and held it tightly, feeling the strong fingers that so recently knew the feel of a sword. “The tide rises quite high and washes the lower half of the staircase with seaweed and creatures from the deep.”
Eowyn discovered she liked the way Lothiriel’s hand felt in hers. The fine boned hand was delicate and soft. Shyly, she squeezed Lothiriel’s fingers. “Can we find some of these clams?” She asked, eager as a child.
“I am afraid not. They are not in season. They shall be, in a few months.” Lothiriel wondered if Eowyn would be receptive to staying on in Dol Amroth, but she did not voice her request, merely left the hint open to any interpretation Eowyn chose to give it.
“I do not know if Eomer can stay gone so long from Rohan. Nor would I want to stay here without him, knowing how much he will need me to help him in the coming months.”
Lothiriel hid her disappointment. She understood Eowyn’s reasoning and admired her for putting duty above all else. “Then next season, when Rohan is recovered, you must come and dig for clams with me.” She lifted her torch high and, still holding Eowyn's hand proceeded down the stairs.
The stairs were slimed with the night tide’s deposits and Eowyn clutched Lothiriel’s hand harder while her other hand braced against the wall. The princess seemed not in the least bothered as little, unseen things crunched beneath their boots. The made their way silently as both concentrated on the slippery stairs. At the last turn, Eowyn saw a faint glimmer of light that grew brighter as they drew nearer. Lothiriel placed her torch in an empty bracket and continued forward. Once again, they faced an iron gate and the princess retrieved a key from her pocket and unlocked it. Still holding hands, the two women stepped out on to the sand.
The waves lapped gently on the shoal-strewn sand. Clots of seaweed clung to boulders and rocks. To their right, the cliff face had given way and the beach was partially blocked by a spectacular landslide. Eowyn stood frozen for a moment, taking it all in. Her eyes were wide and a smile played around her lips. The wind whipped their hair around and blew tiny grains of sand against their clothes.
Lothiriel spoke suddenly, in a great rush. Her cheeks became rosy and her eyes peculiarly bright. “I know that there is some hope that one of my brothers may be suitable as a husband for you, but I hope that it is not so.”
Eowyn tried to laugh but it came out a strangled sound.
As if realizing that her tongue had gotten away from her, Lothiriel dropped Eowyn’s hand. “F-Forgive me, please. I did not mean to say,” she stumbled to a halt and took a deep breath.
Eowyn’s brow rose and her own face grew flushed. “Indeed, princess, I know.”
As if she did not hear, Lothiriel continued on. “I am fond of you and would do anything to make you my friend.”
“Only your friend?” Eowyn asked. Her mind screamed that she was not ready to face Lothiriel, not ready to truly face herself. It was one thing to muse aloud and another to actually face the truth. Still, the question hung between them and it could not be taken back.
Lothiriel gazed at the water and regained her composure. “Earlier, when we were in the tower, I told you that there were different kinds of love.”
“You told me nothing I did not all ready know,” Eowyn interrupted. “Eomer loved Theodred, our cousin. I believe he may be falling in love with your father.”
“I did not bring you here to discuss them.”
“I know that as well. I have no name for the feelings you stir in me. I have never felt this stirring before. I do not fear it, but I wonder if it is my own loneliness that draws me to you.”
Lothiriel placed her hand on Eowyn’s shoulder and smiled into her eyes. Slowly she drew closer until her breath fanned Eowyn’s cheeks and lips. Deliberately, she brought her lips closer to Eowyn’s, giving the other woman the opportunity to draw away if she chose. Eowyn neither moved forward or back, but allowed Lothiriel’s lips to touch her own. The kiss was chaste, rather more like sisters sharing a kiss of friendship. Pausing, the princess waited to see what Eowyn would do. For her part, Eowyn wasn’t sure at first what to make of the warm lips touching her own or the soft breast brushing against her arm. When Lothiriel withdrew, she blinked and stared at the princess for a bit, trying to gauge her own feelings. Of her own accord, she leaned forward so that she pressed her lips to Lothiriel’s. This time, Lothiriel’s mouth parted slightly and her tongue darted out to brush against Eowyn’s lips. Fire raced from her mouth down her spine and created a soft explosion in the center of her being and Eowyn gasped.
This time, Lothiriel did not retreat, but grasped the sides of Eowyn’s head with both her slender hands and pushed her tongue deeply inside the warm cavity. Their teeth clashed together and Eowyn’s mouth opened wide to receive the princess. Unconsciously, Eowyn pressed closer to Lothiriel until their bodies molded together from breast to knee. The novelty of the warm, pliant body against hers sent shivers of pleasure coursing through Eowyn and she moaned softly. The princess breathed in Eowyn’s scent and her moan and felt her own head swimming.
Gulls wheeled overhead, but neither woman noticed. They locked their slender arms around slender waists and clung tightly to one another. Their tongues dueled fiercely and their lips grew swollen and bruised from nipping teeth. Pale strawberry hair mixed with shimmering silver hair and swirled around the pair until it was hopelessly tangled around fingers and each tasted the fine strands in their mouths. Skin grew flushed and heated and breath quickened. Fingers, one set hard from wielding a sword and the other soft, clutched and squeezed through cloth. Hips ground against hips. Before Lothiriel quite knew what she was about, her hands moved to Eowyn’s breasts and she squeezed the swelling mounds. Eowyn jerked her head back and stared at Lothiriel with passion filled eyes. Then she lowered her head until her face buried in the smooth neck and she scored the pale flesh with her over-eager teeth. They both staggered as their knees gave way beneath them and they fell apart gasping.
Lothiriel was the first to recover. “Indeed,” she said laughing, “you are truly fearless.”
Brushing the hair from her eyes, Eowyn laughed, too. “Fearless? Nay, Lothiriel, I am free.” With that, she unlaced her shirt and drew it over her head. When Lothiriel asked her what she was about, she said only that she wanted to feel the cold ocean water on her hot skin and continued to strip until she stood naked and pale before her friend.
“The water will be cold, Eowyn,” Lothiriel warned.
“You will have to come and keep me warm,” Eowyn shouted into the wind as she sprinted over the sand.
Lothiriel watched as Eowyn waded into the waves and then she removed her own clothing and pelted after.
*~*
Eomer stood atop the castle’s battlements and stared far down to the sand below. He witnessed Lothiriel and Eowyn coming together and then, when he thought he could witness no further shock, saw his sister strip naked. His face flamed beneath his beard and he tried to avert his gaze, but he couldn’t. Her lithe body flashed in the afternoon sun and her hair streamed behind her as she ran towards the water. Moments later, he saw Lothiriel step easily from her own clothes and follow. In the water, the couple came together and kissed and stroked one another’s hair and body. They waded further out, diving and splashing among the waves. They were never far apart, coming together frequently to kiss or pet one another. Eomer’s thoughts whirled in a miasma.
“Does your frown mean you disapprove?”
Eomer turned his head. “Nay, far from it, but I am surprised.”
“I had hoped your sister would find a suitable match among my children,” Imrahil’s voice held subtle irony.
“Do you disapprove?”
Imrahil laughed ruefully. “I will be named many things by history, I will not be named a hypocrite. Besides, I suspected Lothiriel had some affection for your sister. The entire trip was not a waste for you, if you are content to see Eowyn with whoever pleases her.”
“I would claim the trip successful on many
sides,” Eomer said softly.
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