Fan Fiction ❯ By the Sea ❯ The Morning After ( Chapter 2 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Morning came far too soon for her liking.



In the end the piercing shrieks of the white gulls pulled her away from the comfortable embrace of her slumber. Forcing her eyes to open, Lothíriel clenched her jaw as she found herself within the confines of her husband's muscular arms, her naked body pressed tightly against his. He had insisted on holding her throughout the night and how she managed to fall asleep in his arms was still a mystery to her.



The Princess of Dol Amroth had not allowed herself to feel his gentle caresses during their night of passionless love-making. If she had done, she would have lost all semblance of herself–she would have helplessly broken down there and then, with the King of Rohan none the wiser. Instead, her mind had wandered and drifted away to recall the happier times of her childhood, the times when she would play upon the sandy shores beside her home with reckless abandon. Those days had been filled with laughter and joy–she knew that the future of her life would not be filled with such happiness and hope.



The hollow chasm in her heart trembled as she glanced down at her husband's serene features, still framed within a deep sleep.



The previous night, she had tried to avoid his kisses and roaming hands subtly by speaking of her fatigue... But he did not understand her reticence towards his touch. And she, foolishly, offered no further refusal towards his ministrations as it would have been futile to decline his persistent gestures. After all, tradition dictated that a newly married bride and groom must consummate their marriage for the ceremonial vows to be sealed. They had done this, and Lothíriel desperately hoped that he would not seek her out again.



But from the King's endearing words during the night, as his body remained in the throes of his own pleasure, she knew that that would not be the case; he would continue to seek her out... Until he grew bored of her unmoving form beneath him, or if she refused him.



She would have to endure his continued advances for the rest of her life, always seeking to offer him pleasure but receiving none in return. Of course he had tried to pleasure her needs, it was his duty as a good husband and lover, but she had felt nothing... Absolutely nothing.



With a determined purpose, she gently extracted herself from his bulky arms and rose to greet the daunting new day.



The lancing pain between her legs did not go unnoticed as she made her way to the ridiculously large dresser in the corner of the extravagantly decorated room.



Lothíriel could feel her heart freeze and harden as she began the arduous task of dressing herself in the simple blue gown that had been laid out for her. Her cold blue eyes refused to look down between her legs to see the damage that had been inflicted. She knew that her husband had not meant to cause her pain; he had tried his best to make her as comfortable as possible–tried his best to goad some sort of impassioned response from her.



But she had been silent, learning that it was best not to encourage him further. And when he finally moved away from her listless form after he had received his own satisfaction, she could not help but notice the sliver of regret and pain that lingered within his honeyed brown eyes at the lack of enthusiasm on her part.



It was because of his pain that she felt disgusted with herself.



She was lying to him.



By allowing the Rohan King to be intimate with her, she was giving him false impressions about her feelings towards him–and for that, she felt absolutely rotten. She believed whole-heatedly that she did not deserve his good heart and kind words; she was making a mockery of the proud warrior King. Sighing, Lothíriel continued to silently lace the ties of her blue gown behind her back.



Completely preoccupied within her thoughts, she started with shock as she felt her husband's warm hands remove her fingers from the delicate laces. As her arms came to rest at her sides, she looked up at the dresser in front of her and caught his eye in the rounded mirror as he stood behind her.



He smiled at her with hesitance.



She nodded her head in greeting, offering a watery smile in return as he proceeded to tie the laces of her dress together.



"Forgive me," she heard from behind, his baritone voice strong against the fragile morning.



Her brow dipped into a small frown. "For what, Éomer?"



"For last night," he continued softly, "You said that you were tired and I did not know the truth of your words until–until after we had... I am sorry if I forced you to exert yourself, it was not my intention."



O, by Ilúvatar's grace! How could one man be so thoughtful?!



Lothíriel desperately wanted to love him; she did! But she couldn't... And she did not know why. The King of Rohan may have been blind towards her true feelings, but that did not hinder his caring spirit. And to think that she had called him emotionless and brutish! It made her feel worse than before. She would have preferred being married to an unfeeling, ungenerous man than this newly discovered kind-hearted King that loved her dearly, but received nothing in return.



Forcing herself to smile at him, their eyes locked once more in the mirror. "Do not apologise, Éomer. I–I may have been tired but you could not have known."



"You told me, Lothíriel," the King of Rohan admonished gravely, his hands lingering upon her waist, "You told me, but I did not listen to the truth of your words. I thought that you were jesting."



Lothíriel kept the brittle smile plastered on her face as she turned around to face him, "It is done, and I do not resent you for it. Perhaps in the future you will heed my words, my good King," she teased lightly, bringing a ghostly smile upon his face before his demeanour changed once more.



Frowning, Éomer brushed his fingers across her slanted cheekbone. "Are you well, Lothíriel? You are far too pale," the guilty expression on his face tugged at her heart.



"You worry too much," she took his hand away from her face and held it firmly to her chest.



He smiled thoughtfully, "That is what my sister says."



"Then your sister is correct, for I am never wrong in my observations."



Éomer laughed, a loud and charming sound that pleased her greatly. If she could not love him, the least she could do was make him happy. It would not do to have two miserable people forced into marriage. She would have to make the best of it... That is, until he tried to bed her once again. Then, she did not know if she could keep up the pretence of her good humour.



The thought caused the smile to slip briefly from her face.



"Where were you going?"



"Hm?" Lothíriel looked up, to find him gazing at her with concern.



"Where were you going?" Éomer repeated patiently.



His words finally registered within her mind, "Down to the shore to watch the sunrise," she replied absently, turning her head to look at a pair of doors that would lead her to the room's private balcony.



"Unescorted?"



His incredulity was not lost upon her. "It is quite safe here," she assured, slightly peeved.



"Would you mind if I accompanied you?"



Lothíriel grit her teeth, cursing herself for telling the truth. Her morning walks upon the sandy shores of her home was a private affair. From the young age of seven, she had not allowed anyone to join her; it was the single moment in her day when she could lose herself and pretend that she was free–free from the restraints of her family heritage, free from the pampering she received as a Princess. And now... Her husband wished to join her.



There was nothing sacred left.



But she could not deny him. And so, she nodded and waited patiently for him to dress himself appropriately as she donned her matching blue slippers. Once attired, they silently made their way to the open doors of the balcony.



As he took her hand and placed it into the crook of his elbow, Lothíriel guided her husband down the stone steps that adjoined onto their private balcony. Each level of steps criss-crossed down to the white-sand beach that lay below. Armoured guards were standing stoically on every level as they descended the large steps, bowing respectfully as the King and his new bride passed. She smiled at the familiar faces, recognising some from her childhood.



"Do you often rise this early?"



Éomer's voice caught her off guard.



She pondered the question as they continued their leisurely pace, "Not usually. I am rather ill-favoured in the morning, which is why my father and brothers liken me to a hungry warg with no teeth; it is not often that I rise early."



The King of Rohan quietly chuckled at her description, "But you were delightful in your behaviour to me this morning! I cannot imagine you in the guise of a warg."



With an unladylike snort, she replied, "I would not dismiss my family's words so soon Éomer-King. There is a fair amount of truth in them."



"Well... Then I hope that you do not decide to feast upon me in the morning, for if you do, Rohan will be without a King and you will be without a husband."



The frivolous turn of their conversation was pleasing to Lothíriel. During their betrothal, she had only spent a handful of hours with him, and in those moments he had been dispassionate and severely droll. But at the time of their meetings, one or more of his advisor's had always been present and she deduced that it must have made him uncomfortable to speak so intimately with others watching.



However, once in private, it seemed that her husband exuded a wonderful charm and wit, much to her surprise.



She showed her approval of his character by chuckling dryly, "Indeed, you shall have to tread carefully, my lord. We would not want the citizens of Rohan in an uproar; I hear that they are quite protective of their Royal family and would most likely hunt me down." They shared another quiet laugh before they reached the ground.



Walking down the winding grassy paths, the couple remained silent until the sight of white sand greeted them.



Lothíriel sighed quietly. She would much rather have been on her own to greet the dawning day... But alas, she had to share this morning with her new husband. She wondered if she would be afforded such a luxury once they were Rohan. Somehow, she did not think that her husband would allow her to roam the grassy planes of his land without an escort. And even then, she did not think he would be too pleased to have her gallivanting about.



It was simply another reason for her to despise their arranged marriage.



Arm in arm, they quietly strolled along the sandy white shores, content to listen to the churning waves of the sapphire blue sea as it was tossed about by the gentle breeze.



Lothíriel spied a large rock, jutting out from the sand at an angle.



Unconsciously, she led Éomer towards the smooth rock she had claimed as her own many years ago. There was enough space for them to sit down, as she was quite small compared to his broad body. She was not unaware that he completely dwarfed her in every aspect of size and strength. This thought should have brought comfort to her as it solidified her safety; it did nothing but make her more nervous.



Without speaking, the couple watched the first rays of the sun gently peak out from beyond the horizon. They watched the majestic star slowly climb and make it's journey upwards, brightening the day with it's comforting beams of joyous light.



"Dol Amroth is beautiful," he said quietly, his eyes never leaving the spectacle before him as he broke the silence between them.



"It is," Lothíriel murmured wistfully.



Éomer turned to look at her profile, watching intently as the morning rays of the sun gently kissed her tanned skin, igniting the warmth of her raven locks. "I am loathe to take you away from your home," he admitted softly.



She blinked heavily but did not look at him, "I am sure Rohan is just as beautiful."



"It is," the King agreed, "And though I admit that Dol Amroth is spectacular, no place can compare to one's homeland."



Wise words, she mused to herself silently.



Bringing her knees to her chest as they sat side by side, she placed her chin upon her supported arms and inhaled the salty air with regret, "My heart will forever belong to the sea," she whispered, blind to the slight darkening of her husband's features. "My home will always be beside the sea... Just as your home and heart belongs in Rohan, with your horses."



He made a small sound of agreement.



When he spoke again, his voice was strained and distant, "Lothíriel... Will you be happy to leave Dol Amroth and join me in Rohan? You must speak the truth, do not be afraid."



The King of Rohan was full was great surprises, and quite perceptive when he wished to be. "Do not worry yourself, my lord. We are wed and the paths that you will tread, are my own as well."



Her answer had not satisfied him. "You have avoided the question," he muttered wryly.



"Nay, I will not be happy to leave," she sighed, looking at his worried countenance, "But if Rohan is as beautiful as you say it is, then I shall be happy to reside there... By your side." Lothíriel had answered as truthfully as she could.



Éomer seemed satisfied with her response and without another word, he wound his arm around her waist and pulled her close against his side. She stiffened slightly under his touch, but allowed him to pull her close. He was unaware of her reaction.



The contents of her stomach swirled and churned like a raging sea as he placed a gentle kiss upon the crown of her head. She buried her face against his chest, cringing away from his display of affection. Her action was misinterpreted as the King of Rohan squeezed her closer than before.



Éomer tipped her head back and claimed her pouted ruby lips in a fervent yet gentle kiss. Lothíriel bit back a groan of frustration as his tongue licked her own. Surely he would not initiate such a private act upon this public shore, in view of everyone?! Even with all of his charm, it did not excuse his uncouth and discourteous behaviour at present.



Placing her hands upon his chest, she pushed him away and released her lips from their crushing prison. He sent her a look of confusion, and she forced herself to speak with good humour, "It would not be wise," she reprimanded lightly, "Many will soon awaken and traverse these shores; you do not want their hungry eyes upon us, do you?"



He had the grace to look ashamed and in his favour, his ears reddened at the prospect of being caught by the prying eyes of strangers. Clearing his throat, he rose from the rock and pulled her with him. "You are right," he said stoutly. "Come, let us return to our chambers and fill our stomachs."



His words lacked grace and refinement, but she forgave him for his shortcomings. With a strained smile, she allowed herself to be led back to their room.



She wondered how she would survive their oppressive marriage. It would be a miracle if she did.



Add ed Notes: Next chapter, Lothíriel and Éomer travel to Rohan to begin their life together as King and Queen. Cracks start to show in their marriage and Éomer begins to suspect his wife's true feelings as she avoids his touch like the plague... I promise it will get better though!


Thanks to Loti, Sarah and fandun for reviewing! I really appreciate your opinions.
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