The Abduction of Éomer, King of Rohan

Chapter 8

I was warm. Even the tip of my nose was warm. With a happy sigh I burrowed deeper into my lovely cushion. It had just the right firmness to rest my cheek against, and when I listened closely I heard the slow, comforting rhythm of a heartbeat. I was safe.

Strong arms closed about me and somebody snuggled into my hair. "You smell nice," he whispered sleepily.

With the remnants of my dreams still clinging to me like wisps of morning fog, I just nodded. I liked his smell too: a reassuring mix of sweat, old bags and...cabbage? Never mind. I yawned and felt myself drifting off to sleep again. Even my icy feet had regained some feeling, now that I had managed to wedge them between his legs. A warm hand moved up my back in a caress and he murmured something in his sleep. I liked how the words rumbled in his chest, even though I did not understand them.

Why didn't I understand them? I pondered the question for a while, until my drowsy mind supplied the answer: he spoke the language of Rohan, that was why. Content to have made sense of my world, I let my consciousness slip towards sleep again. Nothing bad could happen to me while Léona held me.

Léona?

It was Léona! That realization brought me wide awake. I opened my eyes to find myself wedged against his chest in the most improper manner. His blond mane twined with my tangled black hair and my cheek rested against bare skin. Where had those jute bags gone! And how had his hands ended up inside my clothes? I calmed my hammering heart: he was fast asleep, nothing had happened. Anyway, if he had wanted to take advantage of me, he could have done so long ago. Alone with him in the wilds, I would have had no way to stop him. He was honourable.

"Léona," I whispered.

No reaction. When I peered around him, I saw that there was plenty of space behind him, whereas I had the ribs that lined the side of the boat poking into my back. If only I could shift him back to his original position, I could then pretend that waking up in his arms had been a dream. Gently, I tried to dislodge him by pushing against his chest. In response he tightened his grip and muttered something unintelligible. If anything I was now squeezed even closer against him! Thank the Valar that my father could not see us at this moment.

It was only the need for warmth, I told myself as I wriggled my feet free from between his legs. A glance up at the sky showed glimpses of pale blue veiled by morning mist. We must have slept through the sun rising.

"Léona," I whispered again, "you can let go of me now!"

His name provoked remarkably little response. And this from a man who in the past had woken up with a naked blade in his hands at the least disturbance! Instead, he had somehow managed to snuggle his head down the neckline of my tunic and seemed to like it there, at least to judge from his soft snores. I was torn between embarrassment and amusement. This couldn't be happening to me!

I pushed him away with more force. "You mustn't do that!"

Suddenly his arms tightened around me like bands of iron. In a single smooth motion he rolled on top of me, driving the air from my lungs.

"Léona!" I gasped.

Sleep-fogged eyes stared down at me: the eyes of a stranger. The raw hunger in them made me go still like a hunted thing. Pinned below him, I was helpless – completely at his mercy. At the same moment a strange frisson of excitement ran through me. He was going to kiss me, he was going to...

Léona shook his head in confusion. "Lothíriel?" He looked around and abruptly seemed to become aware of what he was doing. "What!" Hastily he crawled off me