the wedding
Who: Eomer ota that are in rohan Where: Various places What: Wedding Eomer - Lothiriel When: various points during the wedding day leading up to and including the wedding
Eomer had had no sleep, since the previous day. He had been out all night, ran into Lothiriel in the early morning hours and felt a need for solitude and time to think alone. What was the point of being a King if you could not control your own destiny kept playing over and over again in his head, by the time the morning had moved into early afternoon, his mind was still not at ease. Deorwine had been sent to find him, which was not truly all that surprising, as it was rumoured that when the new King decided upon who would lead his own personal guards that Deorwine would be the one in the position. All of Theoden’s guard had died with him, and Deorwine’s father had been in their number. It was not only fitting due to the two young men being friends and having grown up together, but fitting also that it would show that through two kings reigns, so his family had been trusted by such.
He had already been named as the one that would stand by the king as the wedding was to progress, so it was near on his duty to find the missing king anyway.
Deorwine, didn’t need to go and search all too long, he knew where Eomer would be, but had held his tongue and had felt no compulsion whatsoever, to tell anyone of where he might be, until they sent him to fetch him. Deorwine, would have no intention of enforcing Eomer to come back to the palace with him, he knew him well enough, Eomer would return when he saw fit and not before. Even though Deorwine was a good five years older than Eomer he had been part of his men that had been arrested when the good king Theoden was under Saruman’s spell, they had remained loyal to one another all the time they had spent in locked in the cells of the palace.
So where would Eomer be? He would be in the old stables, a place which held many old fun filled memories, from childhood to that of becoming a young man, a place where secrets had been told and promises made. A place where both of them had first learnt how to ride a horse, and how to become a part of whatever creature chose to allow them to be its rider. As other than Eowyn and now Lothiriel, Deorwine knew that Eomer loved nothing other than his country and the horses that roamed it. He himself had been lucky, his wife had not been chosen for him by another, and they had fallen in love amidst all the warring and stayed true to one another. He was hoping he would be able to give his friend, his commander, his king some hope. For even if his heart lay with another lady, one of which he would never know as he would wish nor be able to hold onto when the nights were cold. His lady, at least would remain ever beautiful and ever young in his memory and the love he felt for her would never wane, and would be a cherished thought when all else was dark. Maybe not such a glowing need to give hope, but it was all Deorwine could think of too say.
The two walked from the stables and entered the palace, Eomer had been silent, he had listened to Deorwine, but had not uttered a single word. Given him no idea of what he was thinking or of where his mind was lingering. He needed quiet, he needed to prepare himself, but time was drawing ever closer and he was not sure if it was the end of something beautiful, or the beginning of another trial he must subject himself too and prove he would face it head on.
The great hall of Meduseld, had been chosen as the place the King would be married to his bride, it shone so brightly and was made of solid gold. People had been busily preparing it, there were the natural wild flowers of Rohan adorning it, leading inside of it, torches lit to make it gleam all the more. Everything was prepared and ready. The grand hall had not been used for such before, but before there had never been the promise of lasting peace and tranquillity.
Riders young and old were preparing their horses for they would sit aloft their mounts and bow their heads as their king made his way past them and entered the hall. Firefoot, would not allow any other to tend to him, a sad but honest matter, the king would have to prepare his own horse for it would have no stable boy, nor rider other than he place flowers and braids in his mane.
A good two hours before Lothiriel would ever need to get into her dress, Eomer was down in the main stable block. He began to prepare his horse, and as he did he talked to him, for he was the nearest thing other than Lothiriel, Eomer had as far as a soul mate was concerned. They were part of one another on a whole different level than any who were not of Rohan could understand. It was a combining of two made into one, and it lasted until death, much as he would wish his love for Lothiriel would. Much as Deorwine had been attempting to make him see, just because he could not have her, it did not mean the love had to die. He would not have to watch her grow old, though Eomer could not imagine even when they were both old and grey that Lothiriel’s beauty would ever fade too him.
It was at that point, he sang, he sang from his heart an old song that he had heard and knew not where it came from, but each and every word brought Lothiriel’s face into the clearest clarity in his mind. His deep clear voice rang out, and if any others wondered who he was thinking of as the song filled the air, they were not given any choice but to realize that whomever it was, their King loved her. Some wondered if it was his wife to be he was singing of, and others wondered if it was the fair young maiden they had caught sight of him with on journey back home. Others, those that knew the King, knew that there could only be one person he sang so earnestly of. They had seen with eyes older and wiser than his, when two young children had played in fields of gold, and had plotted to make this day come true.
‘Some say love It is a river That drowns the tender reed Some say love It is a razor That leaves your soul to bleed Some say love It is a hunger An endless aching need I say love It is a flower And you-it's only seed
It's the heart Afraid of breaking That never learns to dance It's the dream Afraid of waking That never takes the chance It's the one Who won't be taken Who cannot seem to give And the soul Afraid of dying That never learns to live
When the night has been too lonely And the road has been too long And you think that love is only For the lucky and the strong Just remember In the winter Far beneath the bitter snow Lies the seed That with the sun's love In the spring Becomes the rose’
The song faded as the king finished readying his steed, he looked into the large horses eyes and nodded his head. Now his brother of a different species was ready, so it was time he went and allowed others to braid his own hair and do whatever it was they saw fit to do.
Time seemed to creep up all too readily, time to become a husband to a woman whose name he did not even know. He rode on Firefoot’s back from the palace to the great hall, his armour gleaming silver and the crown upon his head gold, long hair that matched the gold of the crown running free over his broad shoulders, the riders lined the path he was to take and threaded between them and their mighty steeds were small children. One such child came running forward as the King and his entourage made their way forward, his horse halted as the child drew closer and reached up, passing him a small posy of tiny blue flowers she’d obviously picked her self.