LOVE! Rohirrim Style

13 - To Ride the Mearas

Note: This is a wedding night. Nothing more. Nothing less. I did not write it for children. Policing your underaged child is not my job, but yours. If you are still interested, bring a mop and towel. I am not responsible for the condition of your chair, floor, or computer either.

LOVE! Rohirrim Style

Chapter 13

To Ride the Mearas.

“Do you think your maidservant and my captain were trying to steal our thunder?” Éomer dropped the bar and after thinking about the things he’d done to his friends on their wedding nights, he propped the nearest chair under the latch and eyeballed the giant armoire against the wall, as if to gauge his ability to drag it to the door.

“No.” Lothiriel was fidgeting, nervous. “I knew the two were spending time together, but I did not know that they were serious.” A blaze was crackling merrily in the fireplace, making the chamber uncommonly warm and many candles were lit in the bedchamber. Butterflies were dancing merrily in the pit of her stomach. “I am happy for her. I did not ask her to come to Rohan with me; I did not think she wished to go, but I am glad she will be there now.”

Éomer was very aware his bride was bundle of nerves. When he was younger, he always felt that virgins… well… virgins took wooing and time. Back when he was younger, time was not something he took much notice of. Tonight, however, he intended to cherish every second.

There was a decanter of wine and he poured both of them a glass. “Please sit by your mirror,” he pointed, glass in hand. “I would like to take down your hair.”

His wife’s eyes flitted everywhere as she sat into the chair. With infinite patience, he waited until she settled down, before handing her glass. “Afraid?”

Lothiriel sipped her wine. “No. Just nervous.” She took another sip. “They tell me it will sting, but if I relax, it is fleeting.” She watched as Éomer gently lifted and then wove the diadem above her braids. He took it to its carved carrier and returned to her side. Noticing her glass was already empty, he took it from her and set it down out of reach before beginning on the pins in her hair. 

“May I have another glass?”

“No.” He pulled out the first pin, taking great care to give each one to her. “Relaxed is a good thing. Limp is not. I want to ensure you not only enjoy tonight, but that you remember it.”

Lothiriel was staring down at her hands, watching the pins pile up in them. “First time jitters.” She winced as she felt a hair tug. “Actually, it is the naked part.” She set the pins on the table and took the one he handed her, with a single hair caught in the clasp.

One.

Éomer leaned over, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“But, of course!” Lothiriel grinned.

Éomer’s lips grazed her ear. “I will be naked, too.” His tongue flicked the rim of her ear and he felt her shudder. He returned to her hair, taking down the intricately weaved braids…

Two…

His fingers dragged through the one side before beginning on the other.

… three… four…

“I remember the first time I mounted a pony.” Lothiriel’s eyes were closed, the wine and the feel of his fingers through the dark locks of hair, lulling her into a tranquil state. “I no sooner became settled when it took off and left me on my butt in the dust.” She began to chuckle at the thought of the sight of a young Éomer…