Much ado about Lothi

Éomer King of Rohan was taking a walk in the gardens of Prince Imrahil's home when he first heard the shout.

"What?! "

"I mean it! I'm being serious here!"

"You must be jesting, that's just beyond crazy-"

Spoting the two younger princes and his captain of the guard together, he stopped midstride and snuck behind a bush. They didn't seem to have noticed him, and he sensed the nature of their talk was supposed to be secretive, as this part of the garden was a secluded place where anyone rarely came. (Well, save for him.)

Éomer snorted in bemusement at his predicament. Here he was, the king of Riddermark, spying on his friends like some teenage girl. Why on earth did he come here anyway?

He had visited his sister and Faramir in Ithilien, where he met Imrahil and his offspring again. His older friend invited him to Dol Amroth and with Éowyn pressuring him to go and relax for a while, he had no choice but to accept. Really, no one could deny Éowyn of what she wanted, least of all Éomer himself. She knew all of his childhood scrapes and his aquired kingly majestic tones had no effect on her except making her snort. He had great admiration for Faramir, who was the only man that could even remotely control her wild actions. One day he would get some advice from the steward on that, he vowed.

He had come out to the garden from the banquet Imrahil was holding in his honour. He was truly grateful for Imrahil having gone to so much trouble for him, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Lords with unmarried daughters coming up to him endlessly, said daughters too tongue-tied to talk to him or brazenly trying to seduce him, low necklines and tight fitting bodices and all.

(Éomer shuddered. No man should be sentenced to such torture.)

It didn't help that his supposed best friend and captain of his guard was sitting back lazily and enjoying his discomfort immensely. After a particularly shameless one Lady Rialean had tried to get him to feel her up during a dance, he escaped to where Éothain was drinking some wine.

"Captain," he said with gritted teeth.

"Yes, O Éomer King?" was his reply, which only convinced Éomer that Éothain was reveling in seeing him suffer.

"Isn't the captain of my guard supposed to protect me from danger?"

"My lord, I see nothing but lovely ladies whom you had the honour to make an aquaintance. What is this danger you speak of?"

"Oh Bema, I don't have the patience right now to play along, you know exactly what I'm talking about!"

The people near them became quiet, their attention on the King of Rohan and his captain of the guard apparently having a disagreement. Éomer lowered his voice and said

"You shield me from Lady Rialean, and I escape through the back door, is that clear?"

Éothain merely grinned and drained his glass, then went to said lady who was hovering around Éomer like an eagle circles its prey. As Éomer hastily made his escape, he caught a certain princess looking at him, grinning in a way not unlike Éothain had. Fighting the urge to verbally spar with her, he quietly snuck out to the back garden. He had wondered into the more secluded groves, wondering around with no clear direction. Then when at last he decided to turn back, he saw three figures blurry from the dark, but it was not hard to distinguish them, as they were making an incredibly large racket. Erchirion, Amrothos, and Éothain.

"I swear to Manwe's balls, I'm telling the truth!" "Clearly you had too much wine, brother."

Amrothos scoffed, shaking his head at his older brother. "I'm sorry, but there's no bloody way you can convince me that Lothiriel is in love with Éomer!"