The Greenwater

Disclaimer: Standard Disclaimers apply; I don’t own LOTR or any character therein. I own the character of Théalyn and whatever else my warped mind comes up with.

A/N: This fic was originally posted last fall under the pen name Kit Larsen and it was very well received. I pulled it off site because I wasn’t able to update for personal reasons. However…I just recently watched the trilogy all over again and I fell in love with the characters and my story once more, so I have decided to post again. This all began because there wasn’t enough (and there still isn’t, if you ask me) Karl Urban/Éomer fanfiction and it was supposed to be a PWP, but sometimes the muse takes over. I love reviews and I adore flames (not that it would happen….right??); makes no difference to me as long as you read it.

Takes place during TTT EE when Éomer brings Théodred’s body back and Éowyn stands guard while Éomer leaves to talk to Wormtongue – think of it like this: Éomer brings back Théodred in the early evening, leaves Éowyn to tend to him while he tries to clear his head and the next morning, he goes to Wormtongue and is subsequently banished. Is that clear?

****
It was the fist-sized hole in his cousin’s body that caused Éomer to leave the room so abruptly. Éowyn had come in to check on the injured party as well and, seeing her older brother’s stormy expression, decided that she had better tend to the wounded while she shooed Éomer out of the palace to tend to the horses. He needed something to take his mind off of the sight of a spear running through Théodred’s body like it was a hot knife through butter. The squelching, wet sound had been sickening, and the wound was festering now. Swallowing back a sob and his nausea, Éomer took his sister’s advice and left to make his way to the stables.

Outside, the air was much cooler and cleaner, and Éomer breathed deeply, trying to dispel the stench of blood and iron from his nose. It was quiet that night; the chill air was so still that the banners of Edoras hung limply on the poles which they were cast. He could hear the faint sounds of people talking as they headed inside for a late dinner at the end of another day and he bit his lip at the happy sounds. No one but he and his sister knew that Théodred, son of king Théoden and heir to the throne of Edoras lay with a fatal wound in his chambers beyond the Golden Hall.

Éomer shrugged off the tightening in his chest and straightened his shoulders. Éowyn was right; the horses would need to be tended to after the hard ride the Rohirrim had put in that afternoon to arrive at Edoras at dusk. He hadn’t slept for two days, and he was pretty sure that this night would be no exception. He rounded the smithy, his feet walking the well-worn trail from the side gates of the great-house that was home to the king to the stables at the end of the road. He and Théodred knew the route off by heart; he could find it blindfolded on a foggy day.

He stopped short of the massive building, noting that the coach lamps that hung on either side of the double doors were extinguished, but a soft glow still poured out from between the wooden slats. Someone was in the stables. Éomer reached up and pulled his hair back from his face and tossed the ends over his shoulder, and made ready to get rid of whoever was in there in a hurry.

He threw open the doors and they banged as the hit the walls behind. The noise startled the horses and a few jumped. Their wide, dark eyes all fixed on the intruder, but the animals seemed to relax visibly when they discovered that it was merely Éomer, a man that they had all been in contact with. Squinting in the dim light, Éomer made out a dark figure near the far end of the stables. They tended to a horse that didn’t belong there; that stall had been empty for over a year now.

“You there!” Éomer called as he trotted across the hay-strewn floor. The figure turned to look and then stepped back from the unknown coal-black stallion in the last stall. He made his feet move faster incase the stranger decided to run. He was surprised when they made no move to escape but merely waited patiently, as if they had expected him to show up.

“I’ll have your name, stranger,” Éomer announced as he edged closer.

The figure reached then and pulled back the hood on a midnight-blue cloak to reveal a mass of wheat-blonde hair that was woven in the Elvish style. This, however, was no elf. The young woman regarded Éomer for a moment and gave him a small smile.

“You know my name, Éomer.” She moved into the light.

Éomer scowled at first, not sure whether or not to believe his eyes. “Théalyn?” he dared to speak.

She nodded and turned back to her horse. “I would have sought you out first, but Faron here needed to be tended to – he picked up a rock on my way…”

“What are you doing here?” Éomer cut off Théalyn’s speech, too shocked at her appearance to really concentrate on anything else. He hadn’t seen her for almost ten years now, and ten years is a long time when you’re only twenty eight. He studied her then, tilting his head to the side in a contemplative gesture.

She’d definitely changed in the past ten years, but he still recognized the mischievous imp that hid in the depths of her gray eyes. She had only been sixteen when they were introduced, but she had acted so much older. His uncle had told him that it was because of her race that she was much older than she appeared to be. The Eraddnians were much like the Dunedain, and like that seemingly ageless group, they were becoming scarce in Middle Earth. They lived in the Gray Mountains, north of Mirkwood, in the city of Carr Loss. The name was Sindarin for ‘City in the Snow’ and was a fitting name for the place. For most of the year, the city was covered in snow and was subject to cool temperatures, offset only by the warm air currents that came off of the land in the spring and summer.

The Eraddnians were closely associated with the Elves of Mirkwood, and the two shared their knowledge of horses and weapons with each other. They were not a warring race by reputation, but it was no mistake that many of the Rangers that had once scouted Middle Earth were made up of Eraddnians.

The Eraddnians were more like the Elves in appearance, too, or like the men and women of Rohan, in that they were tall and powerful, and usually had fair hair and eyes, although a dark-haired child or someone with brown eyes was not completely unheard of. Éomer now took in the Northern features of Théalyn’s face and he found himself warming to her immediately. Her eyes were the same color, even if they held a little more wisdom, and her face was not as round as it had been in her youth. She had inherited her father’s lean frame and her mother’s snub nose and the light sprinkle of freckles across the bridge there. Her cheeks were rosy from a long journey in the fall air and Éomer stepped back to take in her riding clothes – leather jerkin over a tunic, breeches, and of course, her dark cloak. Each piece was well crafted, but not overly-ornate, and Éomer guessed that she was riding as a Ranger these days.

Théalyn spoke and Éomer was pulled from his cataloguing to learn the reason for her arrival. “Thealad sailed West before the first snows fell in Carr Loss. My mother went with the last of them only a week ago.”

“She did not leave you behind,” Éomer pointed out as he stepped closer.

“No,” Théalyn agreed over her shoulder. She turned back to her horse and Éomer took in the saddle roll still attached to the saddle and the packed saddlebags she now perched on one shoulder. “She didn’t want to leave. She wanted me to come with her.”
Théalyn turned then and looked at Éomer. “I know that there is something going on in Middle Earth. I can’t simply board a ship and sail away knowing that something might be done.”

“It is growing late for something to be done,” Éomer pointed out in a rather bitter tone. He scowled as he stared at Théalyn’s boots and he watched her feet shift. He looked back up suddenly. “Théodred has been injured. Badly. I don’t think he’ll last the night.”

Théalyn’s eyes widened and then narrowed and Éomer shivered at the icy gray slivers they became. “Orcs?” She watched Éomer purse his lips and nod once. Théalyn nodded to herself. She put a hand on Éomer’s forearm and he felt compelled to look into her eyes. “It is not your fault, Éomer. I know you feel responsible…”

Éomer tore away from Théalyn’s touch but his hands caught her upper arms and he squeezed her, hauling her forward so that their noses almost touched. “I’m the Third Marshal of the Mark, girl,” he growled, his green eyes glinting. “I am responsible.”

Théalyn swallowed and looked away, letting Éomer win this small battle. “I’m sorry,” she offered quietly. “I didn’t know.”

Éomer snorted and pushed Théalyn so that she didn’t stand as close to him. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the stall door, kicking at the dirt floor with is boot. “Yes, well, that’s what they all say. ‘I’m sorry, Éomer,’ ‘I didn’t know, Éomer’.” He sneered.

“What would you like me to say?”

He sighed then. Théalyn was right; what more could be said? The damage was done. Éomer rubbed a hand over his face and his shoulders sagged a little in acceptance. “It was supposed to be me in there,” he said thickly. His eyes stayed fixed on the floor as he spoke. “Théodred insisted on riding ahead with Fearynan, one of the younger soldiers. I knew something was wrong as I watched them ride off. We were ambushed not five minutes later. I should have ridden ahead. I’m the leader of the Rohirrim and therefore I am Théodred’s bodyguard.”

“But it’s not you in there. You’re out here with me, and you’re still alive. You’ll still be alive tomorrow, and I know you’ll be alive the day after that and the day after that. You, above your sister and your cousin, have always been a survivor, Éomer.” She paused and shifted her saddlebags to her other shoulder. “It might not help, and it might not make sense right now, but these things happen for a reason, Éomer.”

Éomer’s head shot up at this and his eyes shone with unshed tears. He nodded shortly and spoke. “Yes, well, perhaps you would like to be the one to tell his father, hmm? Tell him that it’s your fault his only son and heir lies dying from a spear wound that could have been avoided.”

Théalyn sighed to herself and closed her eyes briefly. The hard life of Rohan had taken its toll on Éomer and his sister from an early age. They had lost first their mother and then their father, and although King Théoden made sure that the two never lived with want, it was hard to say how the death of their parents had affected the siblings. Éowyn had been so young that she barely remembered her parents but Éomer did. Now his cousin was on the edge of death as well.

That thought struck a chord with Théalyn. Théodred was on the edge of death, but he was not gone yet. She prepared to take a chance with her next words. “If you want Théodred to live, perhaps you should not be in here dwelling on death.”

Éomer merely blinked and watched Théalyn toss one of the saddlebags into the corner of Faron’s stall. She then loosened the saddle roll and took it to the next stall where a fresh, gray stallion stood. She spoke soothingly to the beast as she secured the packs and then turned back to Éomer. “Ride out with me on this night. It’s a full moon and a good time to ask the Valar for some help.”

Éomer rolled his eyes. He wasn’t a big believer in the rituals of old; the pantheon of gods and goddesses that made up the theology of Rohan was not something he studied closely. He had learned about them in his lessons and during his boyhood, but as a soldier, he swore oaths to the heroes of Rohan and the kings of the past. Religion was not something he thought a lot on. Still, he watched the precise and determined movements of Théalyn and he found his own feet moving to saddle Cene, leaving Firefoot to rest for the evening.

****
They rode hard and fast out of the gates of Edoras, down the hillside and across the plains towards the mountains. The moon caused the night to glow and there was enough light from it and the stars that Éomer could see Théalyn’s face as she steered her horse. She had been riding her whole life; Éomer could never remember her falling once. She didn’t control the horse. She became a part of it and she allowed the animal to speak to her with its movements and its instincts. The hooves of the gray stallion pounded the scrub and the hard earth of the foothills and she slowed only to allow Éomer to lead the way into the mountains. He knew where she wanted to go.

In their younger days, during the summer that they met, Théodred, Éowyn, Éomer, Théalyn, and a few of the other Rohirrim soldiers had gone out scouted one evening and came across a great set of waterfalls, each becoming larger as they descended down the hill. Théodred had named the place Greenwater, referring to the lush greenery that grew there in the summer. Even though the season was waning to autumn now, the ferns were still thick and green, as was the moss that grew on the floor of the small forest that surrounded the falls. The trees made a natural canopy and many a night had been spent there, drinking wine, dancing in front of the fire, and taking the occasional moonlit swim in the cool waters.

Éomer had to smile at the memory of this, for it was here that he had first seen a woman naked. Éowyn didn’t count; she was his sister and they had shared a room until Éowyn was ten. He had seen his share of sex; traveling as a junior officer in the Rohirrim had made for a very rich education – the kind of education a young man could only receive with an army of warriors that rode from town to town. Still, his first memory here was fondest. He had gone off with Théodred to hunt rabbit and perhaps a small doe to make their feast for that evening, and Théodred had double backed soon enough to find Bryne, the redheaded daughter of a smith. Éomer was successful in snaring six rabbits, more than enough for their group. He was on his way back to their camp and chose to walk along the stream that was fed from the pool at the foot of the great falls. On their previous visits the young men and women of Rohan had found that there were many smaller, secluded pools that branched off of the main pool, and many of them were heated from natural springs beneath the earth.

As he stepped over the moss-covered stones and balanced on wet logs, Éomer heard the distinctive sound of splashing. He guessed that one of their party had found a pool nearby in which to soak and he made his way in that direction, wanting to see who he would encounter. He didn’t think that he might come across one of the young women in a state of undress.

It was late in the afternoon and the setting sun was at the perfect height for its golden light to spill through the holes in the canopy, creating a marbled effect on the water and the stone cliffs that surrounded one of the pools. He crouched on the ledge that overlooked the pool and stayed low; watching as the water below him rippled with expelled bubbles. Whoever was under the water would soon have to come up for air. He didn’t have to wait long and the top of Théalyn’s fair hair soon broke through the surface of the water.

She pushed her hair back from her eyes and Éomer’s face became shocked as he noticed her arms were bare…as were her shoulders. Her back was to him and Éomer held his breath as Théalyn’s golden skin came into view. She shook her head and wiped at her eyes, watching the way her leanly muscled arms flexed under the damp sheen of her skin. When she turned her profile to him, Éomer almost swallowed his tongue. Her breasts…her breasts were uncovered…He licked at dry lips as he took in the firm, tanned, round smoothness of them. Her nipples had become hard in the cool air when she surfaced and he watched the water roll in lazy drops across the strawberry colored peaks. He let out a small sigh as she moved to the edge of the pool and climbed up the naturally formed steps. Her back was still to him, but he savored the sight of her small waist and her curving hips. He silently begged her to turn around so that he might see all of her.

She grabbed her cloak and rubbed the wool down her shoulders, drying herself as best she could. That was when she felt herself being watched. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, like the time she had caught Théodred staring down the top of her dress as she bent over a writing desk. Instead, it made her skin tingle and become tight, like she was waiting for something to happen. She glanced sideways over her shoulder and thought she caught a glimpse of a lone figure crouched low on the overhanging rocks. She guessed it was Éomer, for only the king’s nephew made her feel safe and secure when he was around. Still, she wasn’t about to give him a show. She smiled to herself and thought she heard the young man curse when she threw her cloak over her shoulders and held it closed with one hand as she gathered her remaining garments with the rest. With a small smile on her lips, Théalyn turned and made her way back to the fire by the waterfall.

“What are you thinking?” Théalyn said teasingly, breaking through Éomer’s memories. She raised an eyebrow as a blush tinged Éomer’s ears. She had a pretty good idea and so she nodded, making it so that he didn’t have to come right out and say it.

Éomer slowed his horse then and dismounted, waiting for Théalyn to follow his lead. The two led their horses along the stream, following the roar of the waterfalls. It did not take long for their sanctuary to come into view. It was the same, and yet in the dark of autumn and after long years, it had changed as well. The Greenwater held so many memories for all of them. Théalyn swallowed a lump of emotion in her throat and looked up to Éomer who stood beside her.

“I’ll search for wood,” Théalyn announced as she led her horse to the small, familiar clearing that was off the banks of the pool. There was a large boulder that shielded visitors from the chill that came off of the air and she left her horse to graze. “Will you hunt?” she asked plainly as she unbuckled the fastening to her saddle roll.

She saw Éomer nod and let his horse go in the direction of hers. He pulled a length of leather thong from his belt and headed off into the forest. As he plod carefully, his mind returned to the day he had come across Théalyn in the pool. It had been a day for many firsts, as he had soon discovered.

****
Théalyn said nothing of Éomer’s visit to her pool while they sat and ate. Darkness had fallen and Théodred entertained with tales from his and his cousin’s adventures, making sure to leave out the baser details. On the whole, however, the conversation was light and filled with laughter, and the rabbit was good and the wine was cold. Éowyn and Bryne soon began singing and Beadumod pulled a small flute from his pack and played along. Soon they were all singing and laughing, some of them dancing, and always they drank more wine. Éomer twirled his sister away from him only to come up with an armful of Théalyn. His eyes widened as he held her against his body and he felt her breasts press against his chest…those breasts that he had seen naked only that afternoon. He felt his body react right away, the familiar tingling in his groin starting and making his mouth go dry. If Théalyn noticed, she still didn’t say anything, but there was a light in her gray eyes that hadn’t been there the day before. She smiled and bowed when the song ended and soon another started.

Éomer watched her smile and then turn and walk back to the fire. She pulled her cloak from her bag, having cast it aside when they started dancing, and she fastened it at her shoulder before stepping from the light of the fire. She glanced over her shoulder, making sure to catch Éomer’s eye, and then she disappeared behind the boulder. Éomer moved then, not noticing his sister’s eyes following his movements. Éowyn grinned and shook her head – it was about time Éomer did something about the looks cast back and forth between he and Théalyn.

Éomer stepped behind the boulder to where he had seen Théalyn disappear and he caught a flash of fair hair in the next grove of trees and he stepped there, wanting to catch up with the young woman.

“Théalyn?” He called quietly as he moved into a clearing big enough for two people. His feet padded over the heavily moss-covered ground and he smelled the cedar from the surrounding trees. Glancing up, he could see the night sky through the trees, and the stars made up pictures of battles and heroes from long ago. He sensed movement behind him and he whirled then, coming face to face with Théalyn. He jumped and let out a small cry of protest, and then scowled when he heard her giggle.

“Did I frighten you?” She whispered.

Before he could stop it, his hand reached out and his fingers wound into her thick hair. “No,” he said simply, stepping into her space.

Théalyn tipped her head up, her eyes wide and shining. “You saw me earlier, didn’t you?” There was jest in her voice and she smiled sweetly, waiting for Éomer to answer her.

Éomer shrugged and grinned wickedly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sniffed.

Théalyn punched him lightly in the arm. “Liar,” she admonished. Still, she smiled and her fingers lightly traced the embroidered edge of Éomer’s tunic. “I know it was you.”

“And how did you know it was me?” Éomer asked, his voice becoming thick as he felt Théalyn’s hands tentatively creep up his arms to his shoulders. He froze then, not wanting to scare her off.

“I just knew. I always know when you’re near. I can’t explain it.” She tipped her chin up and she felt Éomer’s breath ghost over her mouth.

Éomer let out a shuddering sigh. She was close enough…all he had to do was slide one hand to her head…his hands moved then and he pulled her close so that her body molded against his. She fit him perfectly and he only had to angle his head down slightly with parted lips. He felt Théalyn stiffen before he kissed her and her breath shuddered against his. Éomer licked his lips and leaned back a bit to see her eyes. He saw no fear there, only a longing question that asked why he had stopped. He shook his head as if to say ‘never mind’, and he moved forward again, this time pressing warm, moistened lips to Théalyn’s waiting mouth.

The muffled sigh she gave made Éomer’s heart race and he felt her relax in his arms. He licked his tongue out, gently pushing her to open her mouth under his. She did so and Éomer deepened the kiss, his tongue rubbing against her in a most delicious way. His hands moved from her face down her shoulders, and then over her arms and finally to grasp her hands in his. He stroked the backs of her hands with calloused fingertips and softly broke the kiss, opening his eyes a brief moment later.

Théalyn looked up at Éomer, her lips pink and lush from his kiss, the tender skin surrounding her mouth slightly reddened from his day-old stubble. Her mouth was open but her eyes were smiling, and Éomer took this as a good sign. He leaned in to kiss her again when a hand on his chest stopped him.

“I want to kiss you,” she said softly.

Confusion crossed Éomer’s face. Hadn’t she just done so? He cleared his throat and asked as much.

Théalyn grinned at the validity of the question. “No, you kissed me. Now I want to kiss you.” Her hands slid along his jaw and cupped the back of his head, drawing him down to her level. Her kiss was stronger than his, more sure, and he felt heat and desire in it. He breathed heavily through his nose and when he pulled away, he noticed the Théalyn’s chest was heaving.

“That was...mmff!”

Théalyn’s lips met his again, effectively shutting him up. His hands wound into her hair and he slowly ran them down her back, making her shiver and press further into his body. The kiss became more intense the longer it went on, tongues dueling and lips tasting, as teeth tugged and nipped sharply. Théalyn moved her lips to Éomer’s chin and then along his jaw as her hands tugged at the front of his tunic.

Éomer was not an innocent bystander and his hands moved from her back to grasp her hips, rocking into her body gently so as not to scare her. He was rock hard now, but he didn’t seem to care and neither did Théalyn. He dared to move his hands under her cloak and up her sides to cup her breasts. His thumbs softly stroked the tops of the perfect mounds and as he felt her tongue slide against his in a bold move, he squeezed gently, causing her to moan into his mouth.

She pulled away and stared up at Éomer. His pupils were wide, making for only a small ring of emerald that reflected the moonlight. Her hands went to the clasp of her cloak and she let it fall to the forest floor before reaching for the laces of the leather jerkin she wore over a dress she had borrowed from Éowyn.

“Wait,” Éomer said suddenly, his hands closing over hers. He bent and kissed her knuckles and then looked up at her face. “What are you doing?” He gave her a half-smile.

“I thought…I mean…” Théalyn took a deep breath before she continued. “I didn’t think you would ask me.”

“Well, I think it’s a very valid question, seeing as how you’re willing to disrobe here…” he paused and looked around at the green leaves surrounding them. “Out in the open…” he cleared his throat then. “In front of me,” he finished quietly. He dared to look her in the eye again and found that she had not wavered in her decision. If anything, his protests had only cemented it.

“Do you have to rationalize everything?” Théalyn pouted. She shook his hands away from hers and then reached for his shoulders. “Éomer, do you want me?”

Éomer closed his eyes and swallowed, nodding his head. “I want to see you…like you were this afternoon.” He shivered. His eyes opened and he looked down at the young woman before him from under dark eyebrows. The green orbs gleamed as his hands moved back to the laces of her dress and steadily began working the knots loose. He kissed her again, firmly, and lets his mouth wander over the skin of her throat and shoulders as he tugged the bodice of her dress open. “So beautiful,” he whispered against her collarbone. He inhaled the sweet honeyed scent of her and groaned lowly in his throat. His fingertips brushed down her breasts and barely touched the tiny nipples he had seen that afternoon through the soft lamb’s wool dress. His tongue lapped at the hollow of her throat.

“Yes,” Théalyn hissed as her hands raked through Éomer’s hair. He fell to his knees and she let herself go with him, grasping at his arms as she landed on the soft earth.

Éomer didn’t wait for her to catch her breath as he pushed her back to the mossy earth, his body falling against hers. She let out a breath as she landed but her knees raised and she cradled him between her legs. Her head fell back against the earth and she looked up to the moon, her eyes open in wonder. Éomer stopped for a moment when he noticed she was transfixed on the sky above.

“What?” he whispered as he tore his eyes from her and turned slightly to look overhead.

“I didn’t think we’d have an audience,” Théalyn said casually. She laughed at Éomer’s raised eyebrow. “The moon, Éomer. The moon is linked to the Valar,” She instructed. He still frowned and Théalyn touched Éomer’s cheek gently. “It will mean long lives for both of us,” she continued breathlessly. Her fingers passed over Éomer’s full bottom lip and he caught the very tips there and bit them gently as he growled. Théalyn nodded. “And it will give you strength. Give us both strength.” She gasped and felt her eyes flutter closed as Éomer rocked against her and his lips found her wrist.

“Mmmm,” he mumbled against her skin. “How do you know?” He licked at the delicate flesh and then sank his teeth into the fleshy pad of her thumb. “How do you know so much about the Valar?”

“It’s something I’ve always known,” Théalyn said with as much of a shrug as she could give him. “It is all around us.”

Théalyn’s words echoed in his ears as he looked down at the picture she created. She was sprawled on her back, her pale hair spread out on the moss and the leaves. The moonlight shone down and made her golden skin silver. The scent of the earth was fresh and powerful; the breeze stirred the leaves and the nightingale could be heard from the low shrub that surrounded them.

He was suddenly struck with the idea that they were secluded from all but nature. It was as if this spot was there waiting for them and the moon made up for dim, smoking oil lamps and the moss replaced the woolen blankets. There was no thatched roof of scrub brush, no hand-worked oak beams that crisscrossed above – there were only the reaching branches of oak and birch and pine, and they were draped with the dark canopy of night. Energy was all around him. He had in idea of what Théalyn was saying about the Valar then and he pressed his lips close to her ear.

“Will you have me?” He whispered even as his hands reached to tug at his sword belt.

“Always,” Théalyn replied. “So long as the Valar remains, we shall too.” Her hands smoothed his golden hair from his brow and she kissed his lips softly. She whimpered as he settled back between her thighs, his hands grasping at her legs and pushing them higher. Her skirts began to pool up and Éomer’s hands pulled at the ribbons and snaps of Théalyn’s undergarments.

“Tell me to stop,” he gasped as he rid her of the linen petticoat. “Tell me now, for I don’t think I’ll be able to for much longer.”

“You can’t stop,” Théalyn insisted. “And I don’t want you to.”

Éomer kissed her soundly again, sealing their words, and making their clearing into a place of worship. The young Rider seemed to be on autopilot – he had been party to heated groping behind the heavy curtains in his uncle’s hall since he had hit puberty, but he always stopped short of completing the action, wary of what it sometimes meant to a girl. He was young; he did not want to be burdened with a wife and children yet. Somehow, he knew that this was not what Théalyn expected. There was something greater at work here in the trees and the air, and Éomer felt it rack his body and make his blood course through his veins.

Éomer somehow knew to touch her gently between her legs, and he groaned at the warmth and wetness there. Théalyn bit her lip and looked up into Éomer’s eyes as she pushed her hips into his hand. His fingers brushed gently at her sex, his thumb dragged over the bundle of nerves at the apex, and he watched Théalyn’s eyes close as her mouth opened in a tiny, perfect ‘o’. His lips brushed the tops of her breasts and his hand moved from between her thighs up to the front of her dress to loosen it more. Soon her breasts were revealed to him and Éomer stopped. He raised up from her body so that he might see her better and Théalyn held her breath as she watched Éomer’s eyes take in her naked flesh.

One fingertip gently nudged her nipple and then circled it. Éomer watched with fascination as the peak pulled tight in the cool air and he bent his head and kissed the tender skin just below it.

“Ah!” Théalyn gasped. She felt his whiskers scrape her flesh again and her hands settled on his broad shoulders. The low sounds of approval that he made in his throat made Théalyn’s body vibrate and she knew that she was safe in the company of this man.

“I saw you this afternoon,” Éomer began hoarsely. “I saw you in the sunlight and the water. You were perfect.”

Théalyn smiled at his words. “And what about now? I was perfect then; am I still?”

Éomer shook his head lightly with a serious face. Behind his eyes, however, there was laughter, and it warmed Théalyn. “Now you are beyond perfect. Here, on the earth and under the stars you are something that I never dreamed of. I will remember you like this, Théalyn.”
****
TBC