Eomer had not even seen Lothiriel enter, as he had been attempting to read each of the men as they took their turns waffling on about one thing or another. Mistresses still seemed to the be the topic that most were far more interested in, the elders of Rohan loosing the plot somewhat and travelling down memory lane to when they were all young and had such. The Dol Amroth Ambassador’s however were not even nearly as old as the Rohan elders and listened to the old fools, whilst attempting to save themselves some face in front of the young king, who was obviously not the idiot that Sir Thomas had believed him to be.
The meeting however soon came to an end, when they over stepped the boundaries, but implying that maybe one of the queen’s own ladies in waiting may seem more than appealing to the young king. For neither of the men realized that Eomer was truly in love with his Queen. For they had not seen the two when they were children and truly had not seen the way the young couple acted when with one another.
As soon as Eomer could leave he did, with a promise to the Dol Amroth people that bordered more on a threat.
“If I find out, that any of you have been poisoning my Queen’s mind, I shall feel the need to offer you out all individually to a duel, for I shall not have my name nor that of my families dragged through muck, merely by those that see themselves to be better than I. I suggest if you wish to come to me again, with these petty gripes and words of nonsense, you make sure you attend with the Queen, so that she may say her own words, instead of you speaking such things for her.”
He didn’t seem to need to enquire to where Lothiriel was after that moment, even as children they had seemed to find one another, whether or not they were conscious of such, but when one needed the other they would find themselves in their company. So Eomer’s feet led him to his own rooms, and in there he saw his love lay upon the bed, her hair spread about her, and her skin looking ashen. The stench of the vomit filling the room, so he at least knew the words of the Queen being ill and nauseous were not lies. He went to the bed, and softly tugged some of hair from her face as she slept, and then went about removing the chamber pot before he returned with a clean replacement.
He sat on the edge of the bed and lifted one of her hands into his, and even as she slept, he could see dark marks beneath her eyes, see her face had sunken and lost some of its full healthy cheer. Yet of course he was young so also noticed that her breasts appeared slightly larger as did her slim waist, which did confuse him slightly. As he had kept images of her in his mind at all times and the smallest degree of change was more than noticeable.
He had got a soft clothe when he went and removed the pot, had some luke warm water and began to lightly dab her forehead, “wake up Lothie,” he whispered softly, “wake up and tell me what makes you look so ill,” she couldn’t hear him and he was glad of such, “is it me? Is it truly me that is making you so unwell, if so, then I shall give you your freedom my love, you have but to ask.”
After he’d finished talking, he lowered his head and lightly kissed her on the forehead he had been dabbing with the cloth, and sat and waited for her to awaken.