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The new King of Rohan was a stuck-up prig.
Lothiriel had only spoken with him once, and judging by his attitude, that was more than enough. Despite her best attempts at conversation, he’d barely said a word to her and had looked distracted no matter what she’d tried to discuss.
She had made her best effort—his sister was to marry her cousin, after all, and she wanted to meet this man who would soon become family—but one person could not maintain a conversation: not even one as social as Lothiriel. She wasn’t sure why Faramir had thought they’d have anything in common. As far as she knew, the only interest that they shared was a distaste for one another.
Fortunately, she did not have to endure his presence for much longer. He would leave for his own kingdom in a few days and Lothiriel would be free of his presence for a while.
Unfortunately, since his sister was to wed her cousin, this would not be the last time she saw him. She knew not how often she would have to endure his presence, but for her sake, she hoped that those moments were few and far between.
He seemed to be in the same ill mood tonight. Although dinner was usually a merry affair, Eomer remained quiet, seldom smiling and only conversing with his sister.
Lothiriel bit her lip, trying not to make a face at him. He might be a mighty warrior, but she was determined to be the bigger person in this respect.
Her behavior caught the attention of her cousin Faramir, who sat beside her. “What troubles you?” he asked.
“That stuck-up horse lord,” she spat. “Why did you think we would get along? I tried to talk to him, but he seemed more interested in the wall than in my many attempts at conversation.”
“He lost his uncle only a matter of weeks ago,” Faramir reminded her. “Surely you can understand why he is not as jovial as others.”
“I know that,” Lothiriel said, huffing exasperatedly. “But can he not muster the joy to celebrate the fall of the Enemy? He is not the only one who has lost, but he seems to think his grief greater than anyone else’s.”
Faramir paused a moment before responding. “Give him some time,” he said. “Perhaps you will find him different when the world has settled a bit.”
“I doubt it,” Lothiriel muttered. “But for your sake and the sake of your bride, I will not shun him.”
“And I thank you for that,” Faramir said. “We should speak to him together next time. He and I already know each other—perhaps he was simply reluctant to speak with a stranger.”
“I suppose,” Lothiriel agreed. “But I will not allow him to look through me as though I am made of glass. If we are to be cousins by marriage, I would at least hope for a little respect.”
“And you are right to do so,” Faramir replied. “Let us speak of other things now—as you yourself said, we have much to celebrate.”
Lothiriel grinned, raising her wine glass to tap it against Faramir’s. “And I will drink to that,” she said.