Chapter Text
With a loud crash, the box hit the wall. It rained splinters, broken seashells and torn letters over him. In vain he tried to escape, but he was soon – always, swallowed up in the cresting wave of debris –
The room was dimly lit when he woke up, annoyed with himself and his repetitive dreams. Though he had worse memories to recall during his rest – ones of death, carnage and despair, he had hoped to find a reprieve in this bedroom from that box.
Throwing the blanket off himself, he rose to his feet. In the semi-darkness, he could see the slope of her rounded shoulder peeking just above the mass of pillows piled on the mattress.
The relief of her being yet asleep did not last long, for when he returned from refreshing himself, she was sitting on her bed with a curious expression on her face. She did not say anything, however, and he too felt not the slightest inclination to speak.
And while he did not enjoy an audience when getting dressed, he remained silent. When he was done putting on his cuirass, he sat down to fasten his boots, and that was when she chose to say something.
"Thank you for seeing me.”
He gave a non-committal grunt. He should have fastened his boots before putting on his cuirass.
She climbed out of bed, or so he could hear from the rustling and creaking behind him, followed by the soft sounds of her footfall.
“So. Who is Lothíriel?”
His hands froze, but colder still ran his blood upon hearing that name.
By now she was in front of him, the blanket wrapped loosely around her frame.
Slowly he looked up, a thunderous expression on his face. With clenched teeth, he hissed: “Mind your own matters.”
She was not at all intimidated by him. She tossed her blonde hair over her shoulders with a soft laugh and boldly met his gaze.
“You are right to tell me so, yet I cannot help it. In the years you have been visiting me, not once have you said another’s name.”
He glowered at her for another moment, but then he focused on adjusting his vambraces instead.
With a thoughtful hum, she pulled the blanket tighter around her. “It is always so cold in February.”
He heard her pour water into a cup and drink from it, then once more she stood in front of him. The blanket made her look even shorter than she was.
He kept his gaze averted until she forced him to look at her by pushing his chin upwards. Then she brushed her cool lips against his for barely a second and sighed.
“Don’t even come back again, Eomer.”
“What?” Confused, he watched as she moved to the door.
With a click it opened, and she paused to look at him a final time, exasperated. “You must not be foolish, milord. Goodbye.”
And the door closed behind her with another click.
To be continued!