Yours to Command

Emerald Eyes

Eyes like emeralds, shining bright,
Teeth like pearls, that catch the light,
Hair like onyx, midnight fall,
Smile like diamonds, captures all.

(Anonymous admirer: Paean to Lady Wilwarin)

***

Lothíriel certainly didn't lack for partners. Éomer watched with amusement as a Gondorian lord, a friend of Elphir's, forestalled Cadda from taking a turn on the dance floor with her. Like himself, the bard did not usually show any interest in dancing, but he seemed to take a kind interest in Lothíriel.

Éomer had partnered her for the traditional opening dance, but had then thankfully retired to the sidelines to enjoy a glass of wine, talk to his friends and watch the ladies. Being the nephew of the King of the Mark, he had been obliged to master Gondorian dances, but had never truly enjoyed doing so. However, since tonight they celebrated Éowyn's betrothal, there should also be some Rohirric dances performed later on. These were rather more energetic affairs and he looked forward to them - with the right partner.

"Well, Éomer," Faramir said next to him, following his glance, "Now that you've met my cousin, let me give you some advice: don't let her foist any animals on you."

Éomer groaned when he saw the other man's evil grin. "You've heard," he said. It was a statement, not a question.

Faramir laughed. "Éowyn told me all about it, but I have to admit the speed at which this happened surprised even me. I thought I'd be able to give you ample warning."

Éomer shrugged. "Against some things, warnings are in vain anyway."

"When that mood takes her, Lothíriel does resemble a force of nature," Faramir agreed. They exchanged a rueful grin.

Two lines of dancers had formed now and as the stately cadences of a Gondorian court dance filled the hall, the men bowed and the ladies curtsied. Briefly, there was some confusion when Lothíriel couldn't find her assigned place. Éomer would have started forward, but Faramir put a restraining hand on his arm.

"Watch."

Half a dozen men leapt to her aid, amongst them both her brothers. Éomer caught a quick glimpse of Lady Annarima, looking annoyed at being abandoned by her husband like that. Then Lothíriel was shown her place and the dance could continue.

Faramir laughed. "You see, where other women collect admirers, my cousin collects champions."

Éomer watched with interest as the princess executed the complicated dance steps with neat precision.

"How does she do it?" he asked, intrigued.

Faramir took a sip from his glass and watched his cousin thoughtfully. "Sheer determination, I think. I remember when for a while everybody played a board game from the south called Shah. She did not rest until she was able to beat all her brothers at it. The same with dancing, Lothíriel used to spend hours and hours practicing, determined to please her father. She knows the steps by heart and she just expects you to be in the right place - so that's where you'd better be."

Éomer nodded. When dancing with him, the princess had seemed completely relaxed, trusting him to make sure they would not collide with any of the other dancers. He wondered if she would like Rohirric dances, in which you held your partner round the waist and whirled around the dance floor with her.

Faramir swirled the wine round in his glass, staring down at it. "I hope Lothíriel will be able to stay in Minas Tirith for a while. Who knows, she might even meet someone and settle down here."