Imrahil dragged his gaze from the women splashing happily in the water. “I have word that your grain is counted and loaded. I hope you will remain for a while longer and give the ladies a chance to discover what they have in one another. I would be grieved to see them parted at this stage.”
“You truly do not mind, then?” Eomer stared around, wondering whom else might see his sister frolicking so recklessly in the deep swells. He noticed how the guards were well away from the section of wall that looked down on the beach; perhaps Imrahil’s doing.
“Despite her looks, my daughter is much older than she seems. I have seen her turn away suitor after suitor and suspected she had no interest.”
Eomer wondered, again, if he’d not wounded Imrahil too deeply and regretted his own indecisiveness. His conversation with Eowyn came back to him as he stood beside the man who claimed to love him above all others. Had she guessed Imrahil’s suit? Why not? She’d certainly guessed far more than he’d ever suspected. Maybe, too, it came from her insight into her own feelings. He wondered if she’d not known herself better for meeting Lothiriel. In the end, Eomer felt Faramir and Aragorn’s defections not such a bane after all.
The women started to clamber from the water and their naked bodies streamed. Imrahil grunted. “I think we should leave them their privacy,” he turned away and saw Eomer watching him. “Did you expect pettiness after this morning?” He could not stop the hurt edge that crowded his voice.
“Obviously, I do not know you well,” Eomer offered a repentant smile. Imrahil did not return his smile and he knew then his barb went deeper than he’d ever imagined it could. “I fear I have marred our friendship with my carelessness.”
“Not in the least,” Imrahil responded brusquely. He turned from the wall and made his way across the courtyard and Eomer followed in his wake. Turning his head, he saw the deep frown lines that never seemed to fade from between Eomer’s brows and saw the hurt confusion in the deep brown eyes and pity stirred his heart. He hardened himself against it. Pity left him an easy target. “If you prefer, you could leave Lady Eowyn here with us. I think the salt air will do her good.”
“Aye. She and I spoke this morning, but she failed to mention your daughter. She thought to offer me advice and now I see why it was she felt she could do so. She forced from me a vow that, at the time, I thought to be foresworn. I can see now hers was the greater wisdom.”
Imrahil waited patiently for the younger man. He knew Eomer worked his way through his own inner turmoil and gave him space to do so.
“For a year now I have clung like a vine to the side of a house to Theodred, afraid to release him and move onward. Mine is a selfish love, for it was not only the love of him that held me, but my fear of accepting the fate which I alone must now bear. By accepting another love, I must accept Theodred’s death. That is not news of which you have no knowledge, but there is this truth that I have kept close in my heart. If I accept that Theodred is well and truly gone, then I also must accept that I am king of Rohan. I have never shirked any duty given to me. I have never complained about hardships or war or the loneliness that is a commander’s lot. First my father, then Théoden, raised me to accept my responsibilities to kin and subjects. Acceptance of my kingship means that a familial line has ended in Rohan and will never again rule the plains. An age ended with Théoden’s passing that was glorious and sweet to me. I must now find a way to rule as he did: with compassion and honor and conviction. I have seen much and done much in my years, but I fear that this challenge will unman me, show me for a fool or worse. I want to do well by my subjects and have only memories to guide me. There is none that I may turn to and say ‘have I done this right?’ or ‘what would you do?’ I am alone in my rule. I feel the weight of it pushing me down, bending my shoulders. I fear failure.”
“Théoden was a good king, well loved of his subjects. You have him with you always, for you carry his memory in your heart. You have friends who, like you, come sorrowfully into their reigns. Your fears may well serve you, if you learn statecraft from them. If you let the fear rule you, however, you will not only fail as a king, but as a man.”
A bitter smile tugged the corners of Eomer’s mouth. “I have all ready failed as a man.”
They entered the great doors just as Eomer spoke those words and Imrahil froze on the marble tiles. He wanted to shove Eomer against the wall and kiss him until he could not speak. He wanted to run the silly boy through with his sword. The conflicting emotions showed plainly on his face and Imrahil saw Eomer blanch. “Rejecting my suit does not lessen you as a man.”
“And calling you by another’s name even as I placed my hands up on you?” Eomer whispered.
“Think no more of it. I do not.”
Eomer studied Imrahil coolly, detecting the lie but knowing he could not call the prince on it. He did the next best thing. “I am forgiven?”
Imrahil waved his hand and Eomer caught it and held it fast against his chest. The prince stepped cautiously forward and touched his cheek to Eomer’s. Dark blond hair tickled his nose and chin as he kissed the king lightly on his jaw.
“I swear on all my honor I will never again call you by another’s name.”
As Eomer pressed his hand to his chest, Imrahil felt the steady heartbeat and knew the king spoke a great oath that he would die before breaking. He understood the cost of Eomer’s confession and the pride that would not yield, but did so for him. His appreciation for the young king grew in that moment and love swelled his heart. He turned his head to kiss the king and then realized where they were. He grinned wolfishly as he drew away. “My daughter is not the only one who knows of a secret swimming place.”
For the first time in nearly a year, the frown between Eomer’s eyes cleared. “I think that Eowyn is not the only one to benefit from the salt air.”
“We could add salt to it if you like,” Imrahil said with a wicked smirk. “But I usually prefer my bath with scented oil.”
Eomer laughed as he followed the prince.
*~*
Lothiriel and Eowyn lay side by side on the sun-warmed sand. They held hands as the stared quietly at the crystalline sky. The sun evaporated the water from their skin, leaving behind fine grains of salt. Their hair lay in tangled strands on the sand.
The princess turned on her side and stared at Eowyn’s profile. The delicate bones and porcelain-perfect skin held an inner strength that she found absolutely beautiful and said so. Eowyn laughed and she raised her hand to brush at the princess’ face. She stopped laughing as Lothiriel lowered her head and took a pebbled nipple between her teeth and swirled it gently with her tongue. Eowyn pushed Lothiriel against her and arched her back, offering herself completely.
Sand and salt mixed with Eowyn’s flavor and Lothiriel sighed happily as she moved to the other breast. Her hand fluttered over Eowyn’s stomach, grazing over the soft skin, moving further and further down. She encountered no resistance as she dipped her fingers between Eowyn’s thighs.
They ignored the wheeling gulls and the incoming
tide.
~*~ End ~*~
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