More Then you Seem

The young wisp of a girl held her father’s hand tightly. She wanted him to carry her but she was getting to big; so she just clung to his side. Her brothers followed behind their father in the solemn procession. Another funeral, not even 11 she had already attended twice her age in funerals. This one was the saddest, the man that died left behind a wife and two young children. Lothiriel felt very sad for the children, one was just a toddler and the other now forced to leave his childhood behind and assume the role his father had left. They were getting closer to the widow and her children; something made Lothiriel squeeze her father’s hand tighter.

“Do not start this again Loti,” it was a hushed command! Just give Eowyn and Eomer our gifts and greet Theodwyn; as we have discussed.”

The little girl stopped her father and pulled him down to whisper in his ear. Her brothers almost ran into her as she put her heels down to go no farther.

Elphir, her oldest sibling, took her from their father and carried her up to the family.

“There is nothing to be afraid of Lot, I am right here.” He kissed her forehead in reassurance. Elphir put her down and nudged her toward Eowyn. Lothiriel held out a rag doll to the toddler who took it quickly and squeezed it to her chest. Elphir gave a small sword to the boy Eomer who acknowledged it but stared blankly toward the body of his father.

Lothiriel reached into her pouch and pulled out a small, smooth green stone and handed it to the boy. “It is a worry stone. When you are frightened rubbing it soothes away the fears.”

He took it, looked at it and like the sword acknowledged it; but still looked at his father without saying a word.

“You are now the man of Aldburg. Remember the lessons he taught you. He did not want you to grow up to fast, but events being as they are.” Her father spoke gently to the boy. He knew that Eomer was not hearing anything he said but he was rubbing the stone Lothiriel gave him. He would be fine Imrahil thought as he left Eomund’s family to their grief.

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Again the all too familiar situation of death required their presence at Aldburg. This time it was the funeral of Theodwyn, Eomer and Eowyn’s mother who had died of a broken heart shortly after her husband’s death. This time neither Eomer nor Eowyn spoke a word to the visitors. Orphaned so young they knew that they would be safe and loved with their uncle; but the pain of their parents death would not go away anytime soon, if ever.

The rest of the visit was spent getting the children prepared to live with their uncle at Meduseld.

“My niece and nephew get along well with your daughter Imrahil,” Théoden spoke as he watched them picnic on the garden lawn. “She is the only one that Eowyn will speak too.”

“Yes, there is not a single person living that does not get along well with Loti. She has this presence that is hard to define but I have heard it referred to as an “old soul.”

“She will have a lot of suitors. Her mother was a beauty; Lothiriel does not differ from her at all.”

“Too many suitors already my friend, we hardly get a moments rest when the festivals are held and the city swells. Men as old as us have asked for her hand. She is 13, 13 Théoden! But I will not give her to anyone she does not love. And she has shown no interest in any.”

Looking slyly at his nephew and then back to Imrahil Théoden said, “I would not count on that my friend. Seems that Eomer has attracted the attention of you daughter.” He pointed toward the picnickers.

Imrahil smiled broadly. “He looks upon her as a mother figure Théoden, nothing more. Someday I will have to let her go, and if it is to your nephew then I shall not worry for her. But she has political value that may be called upon before this war is over.

Théoden looked at his friend. “But you said that you would not give her to anyone she does not love.”

Sighing Imrahil spoke, “There is a difference between what a father’s heart desires and what the situations of the time call for. I pray she loves the man she marries but that can not be certain. You understand political matches Théoden. No offense to your nephew’s character but he is not in the position to offer anything to Dol Amroth.”

Angry, but keeping it inside Théoden replied, “I understand political matches my friend. But unlike your short vision I also understand the ways of young love. Do not do something that you shall regret later. Eomer may be king someday, than he will offer Dol Amroth plenty. If you have not foolishly treaded upon him.”

Imrahil looked again upon the young people. Eowyn had her head in Loti’s lap and his daughter stroked the child’s long, blonde hair. She is the same age as Eomer he thought then laughed as he saw how protective he was being of his sister and Lothiriel. He had placed himself between the girls and one of Imrahil’s soldiers and was quizzing him about what his intension was toward them. Imrahil laughed harder, “He is the valiant warrior his father was,” he said to himself. “But that is all he will ever be, a warrior, and a Marshal of the Riddermark at most.