Chapter 6

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The man liked seafood! Lothíriel watched in quiet resignation as another of her plans floundered ignominiously before her very eyes: skilfully King Éomer cracked open a crab claw and teased out the last morsel with a toothpick while comparing the taste to the crayfish he used to catch in the streams of Rohan as a boy. Not even the speciality of the house - jellyfish salad - put him off.

As a last resort Lothíriel ordered a plate of grilled baby squid, but though poor Ealdred looked suitably nauseated at the tiny tentacles, the King of Rohan simply munched down the chewy things, only commenting that they tasted a bit rubbery.

Eventually he stretched his legs before him. "An excellent meal," he said, "and finally I got to taste some of Dol Amroth's specialities. People always assume we Rohirrim like nothing but bland food."

Lothíriel gave a weak smile. "They do?"

She picked at her own meal, beef stewed in a sauce as black as the hide of the bull it had come from. Usually this was a favourite dish, but she had lost all appetite for it. What more could she do to put this man off?

Then she encountered another warm smile from him and impulsively decided that perhaps for tonight she could let her efforts rest. After all she only had to keep up her deception for another day and then he would be gone. That thought gave her a sudden pause – somehow she found it difficult to imagine life without his powerful presence about.

Lothíriel mentally shook herself. Nonsense! What had got into her tonight? Soon she'd have her peace and quiet back and could return to working on her projects.

King Éomer touched her lightly on the wrist. "What are you thinking about?"

She shrugged with a smile. "Nothing important."

"In that case let's go for a stroll."

Giving her no chance to either assent or decline, he pushed back his chair and held out his hand. Lothíriel crossed her arms on her chest and looked up at him, her eyebrows raised.

He grinned. "Princess Lothíriel, you would put me forever in your debt if you'd have the kindness to accompany me on a walk along the harbour."

He wasn't slow, she had to hand him that. Lothíriel waited a long moment before giving a nod. "Since you ask so politely, my lord."

King Éomer pressed a hand to his heart. "You overwhelm me with your graciousness!" he answered, his face all sincere, but his eyes teasing her. "I shall always remember your condescension in granting me the honour of your company. Indeed this moment will remain imprinted in my memory indelibly."

The man jumped from one extreme to the other! But he still somehow managed to whisk her away before Ivriniel and Ealdred had made up their minds whether to join them. Their guards got shed as well, leaving them with only Éothain for company.

After that he slowed down as they strolled amongst the stalls that had sprung up all along the quay. The place thronged with travelling musicians, story tellers, acrobats and even a troupe of fire breathers displaying their skill. King Éomer exclaimed in amazement as with a loud whoosh one of them spewed a jet of fire into the night air.

"I wonder how they do it?" he said as they walked on.

This was a topic Lothíriel had actually done some research on. "They fill their mouth with very fine flour," she explained, "and when they blow it over an open flame it ignites."

"Really? That's amazing."

She nodded. "Unfortunately in my experience the effects are very difficult to control." With regret she thought of the small shed that used to hold her gardening tools, blown to smithereens. A necessary sacrifice in her view, but sadly her father hadn't seen it quite that way.

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