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shallownessWaxing moon, LOTR, Lothíriel/Éomer, Double drabble, Rated: universal.
Written for the prompt ‘horseback riding on a moonlit beach’ at comment-fic.
Once its princess, Lothíriel now visited Dol Amroth as a Queen, and many, many people came to see her and her husband. She hailed old friends and spoke to all courteously, but marriage had taught her that such diplomacy for day after day was a strain on her husband.
So, Lothiriel made her arrangements, knowing whom to speak to at her father’s house, and got her reward when she saw Éomer, King of the Horse-lords, ride free on his mount by the light of the moon. On the beach, none would bother them and they could ride until they tired or the tide turned. He rode back to her, laughing in delight. She knew the signs, he would ask her to race and he would almost let her win. She smiled, not knowing if it was at the certainty of what was to come or at her husband’s mood. Perhaps it was the scent of the sea, carried on the breeze, a scent she had forgotten she missed, caught up in her new life in Rohan’s Golden Hall. Perhaps it was that the moon was waxing, which meant they could ride like this for many more nights, should they wish.
Feedback is heartily welcomed.
Written for the prompt ‘horseback riding on a moonlit beach’ at comment-fic.
Once its princess, Lothíriel now visited Dol Amroth as a Queen, and many, many people came to see her and her husband. She hailed old friends and spoke to all courteously, but marriage had taught her that such diplomacy for day after day was a strain on her husband.
So, Lothiriel made her arrangements, knowing whom to speak to at her father’s house, and got her reward when she saw Éomer, King of the Horse-lords, ride free on his mount by the light of the moon. On the beach, none would bother them and they could ride until they tired or the tide turned. He rode back to her, laughing in delight. She knew the signs, he would ask her to race and he would almost let her win. She smiled, not knowing if it was at the certainty of what was to come or at her husband’s mood. Perhaps it was the scent of the sea, carried on the breeze, a scent she had forgotten she missed, caught up in her new life in Rohan’s Golden Hall. Perhaps it was that the moon was waxing, which meant they could ride like this for many more nights, should they wish.
Feedback is heartily welcomed.
