Yours to Command

Serpent Tooth

Running steps announced his squire's arrival. "You called for me, my lord?"

"Get Princess Lothíriel something to eat at once. Bread would be best."

"Yes, my lord."

Lothíriel tugged at Éomer's shirt. "And some water please."

"And water!" he called after the squire. Then he continued on his way to the garden. "After all I would not want my bride-to-be to expire on me," he whispered in her ear.

His bride-to-be. She hid her face against his chest as suddenly the realization of how close she had come to losing him crashed down on her like a giant wave, robbing her of her breath and crushing her under its weight.

"Lothíriel? Have I said something wrong?"

Unable to still the trembling threatening to overwhelm her, she just shook her head and clutched at his shoulders. "It's me. I'm sorry."

He sat down and pulled her into his lap. "You know, Lothíriel, you don't have to be brave all the time." Enfolding her gently in his arms, he added. "Not when you're with me."

"Oh, Éomer!" Suddenly the memory of all the terror of the past day swept through her. Her throat tightened.

He cradled her head against his chest. "You're safe now."

Safe. At his words Lothíriel could no longer withhold the tears she had been bottling up for so long - they spilled out with big, raking sobs. Éomer just held her patiently, stroking her back and murmuring endearments. After a while her shaking lessened and she slowly regained some semblance of control, but for a long time she just leant against him, letting her tears wash away her fear. It was over.

"I was simply terrified," she whispered at last. Suddenly it burst out of her. "Oh Éomer, I thought he had killed you! There at the end..." She remembered how everybody had shouted in alarm and started to shake again.

He squeezed her shoulder. "If only I'd taken better care of you! I'm so sorry you got caught up in this whole horrible revenge business. What a coward to try and get at me through you."

Lothíriel could almost feel the man's wet mouth on hers, his hands groping her. She shuddered. "He wanted to take me with him and marry me! You see, before I lost my eyesight in that accident, Denethor had promised me to a Prince of Harad."

"To Muzgâsh?"

She nodded and Éomer cursed in Rohirric. "If your uncle weren't dead already..." He took a deep breath. "Never mind. I promise that from now on I will look after you." He dropped a light kiss on her forehead. "Are you feeling better now?"

Lothíriel wiped her sleeve across her eyes. What a mess she must look, she didn't even have a handkerchief! But surprisingly enough, she did feel a lot better, if still exhausted and worn out. "Nothing like a good cry to cheer you up," she said with a shaky smile. "I'm sorry; I'm not usually so tearful. Will your men think me dreadfully weak?"

He gave a short bark of laughter. "Lothíriel, the Rohirrim know courage when they encounter it."

Courage? "I'm not brave," she disagreed. Nevertheless, his words filled her with a warm glow.

"Let me be the judge of that. You kept your head and sent me a warning, you stood up to that horrible man and fought back. If that's not courage, what is?"

She had not looked at it like that. "I suppose so. But I just did what I had to."

"There you go." He brushed a strand of hair back from her face. "Do you know, I could get used to seeing you wearing your hair loose like this."