A/N: I have wanted to write an LOTR fic for ages that was actually decent enough to post. This is the beginning of what I hope is that product. I adore Eomer…both in the books and in the films (Karl Urban is incredible…I also adore him.)

Anyway this is going to be my take on his marriage to Lothiriel beginning with their first meeting and going on until who knows. I have a tentative timeline, so we'll see how much changes. I am going to try and stay as in strict canon with the novels, but there are a few tweaks here and there I will take from the films. Also: I will not be using accent marks over the names…this is mainly a result of my laziness…if my lack of accent marks offends you then you have my apologies.

Chapter names will be titled from songs…they will be tied into the writing somehow, whether I listened to that song while writing, the title reminds me of the chapter or the song itself reminds me of a character etc. Rylynn is a song by Andy McKee. The guitar really helped set a tranquil morning for our two characters to meet!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. But you already knew that didn't you?

Prologue

An orange sun rose over the White City, sending warm rays over the blossoming tree and the courtyard. It was yet early and most of the city lay sleeping, having exhausted itself the night previous. Each night drew in a new feast and a new reason to celebrate, especially as each new stone began to rebuild the city almost lost. Servants milled about the halls of the palace, flitting to and fro with fresh linens, jugs of juice and trays of food.

Eomer observed all of this as he walked the halls towards the courtyard. His long hair was pulled away from his face, and he wore a dark green linen shirt over breeches and plain boots. It was simple clothing for an early morning walk. After three very long weeks he still was not sleeping, the nightmares waking him into a constant state of mourning and grief. So, instead of tossing and turning in his bed, Eomer rose to greet the day and spent those precious few moments alone. This morning was no different from his now firmly settled routine.

As he stepped outside the late April morning greeted him, and he paused to close his eyes and let the sun settle over his face. It was a nice feeling, and he rubbed a hand over his now closely cropped beard. "Another morning of peace," he murmured to himself and started out towards the stone wall that served as a rail.

The sight, as always, was breathtaking. Smoke was still rising from Mordor, yet there was no longer fire or dark clouds obstructing the view. Settled between the gates and the White City was Osgiliath, still in ruins. The new King had ordered the rebuilding of Minas Tirith's defenses as the primary concern. Osgiliath would have to wait until the safe hold was restored.

Eomer wondered idly what would be happening in Edoras. Letters sent word of the stewards continuing the defenses and beginning to press the remains of the enemy from their lands. Soon, he hoped, he would be returning to the Golden Hall to lead his people. After all, he mused, he was now King. Or at least he would be after his own coronation.

A peal of laughter stole his attention, breaking his thoughts. The sound reached his ears and reminded him of light and airy music, almost elvish were it not for the smoky tone laced through. Turning his head he watched as a young woman practically floated into the courtyard. Immediately he found himself wishing he had bothered to tie back his loose hair, or at least wear something more than a simple shirt and breeches.

This stranger was not looking at him, but reading a letter. Absently she held a bright red apple in her hand, not looking where she was going as she read. Her dress was simple, pale lilac and constructed of light material that frothed about her as she walked. He noted with a slight twitch in his lips that she was barefoot and her glossy black hair in shining waves that spilled over her shoulders. Altogether she presented a pleasing figure, standing at an average height for a woman and slender in build. Eomer noted with a small hint of satisfaction that beneath the layers of breathy fabric were subtle curves worth appreciating.

The woman laughed again as she continued to read on and was walking straight for a stone bench. At first Eomer thought she was walking to sit but it became immediately apparent that she had no idea it was in front of her. "I would stop were I you," he called and she came to an immediate halt not two meters from the bench.

Surprise took her features just as it stormed his mind. A pair of eyes the brightest green he had ever seen was fixed on him. They were set in a pale face, in features more delicate than he was used to seeing in women. That did not make her any less lovely in his eyes. "My hero," she said at last and a smile took her face that nearly took his breath. "I suppose this should teach me to watch where I tread," she said and folded her letter, tucking it away into the pocket of her dress.

Eomer watched as she approached where he stood. It seemed her eyes were also appraising him and he wondered what she thought. "Lucky you had a warning this time," he said gently and inclined his head.

"You are Lord Eomer," she said and his eyebrows rose.

However he knew his manners and he placed a hand to his chest and nodded. "I am," and then he bowed. "My Lady."

When he looked up another, sweeter smile was on her face. "I am Princess Lothiriel, daughter of Imrahil," she said and dipped in a formal curtsey. "I am pleased to meet you, Lord of Rohan." There was a glint of pleased curiosity in her eyes and the smile still toyed at her lips.

Eomer found himself curious of this strange woman. "May I ask how you knew me?"

This time she laughed and a delicate pink blush took her features. "You are a favorite among the ladies' maids my Lord," was all she said and vaguely at that. So she was to be mysterious, this Princess of Dol Amroth, yet Eomer could not pretend he was displeased as this piece of information. He was a man, and as such always appreciated praise from the gentler sex. "Now it is my turn to ask a question," she said and he gave her a brief nod indicating it was all right. "What brings you out so early this morning? I did not think Kings and great Lords rose before nine."

It was a startlingly personal question but nonetheless he was compelled to answer. "I do not sleep much these days. Events past trouble my thoughts," he said and then looked into her eyes. There was much more contained in them than he originally saw.

"A noble warrior who fought in many battles during the War of the Ring? I cannot see how your thoughts wouldn't be troubled," she said gently and after a moment of thought offered him her apple. It was a simple gesture and a sweet one at that, another piece of an intriguing puzzle that made up this Lothiriel. He accepted it and their fingers brushed.

"Thank you," he said and stared at the perfect red fruit before taking a bite. After he swallowed he regarded her a moment. "I suppose then the turn is mine?" A small grin returned to her lovely face. Eomer decided in that moment he preferred her smiling. "What was in your letter that diverted your attention so?"

The grin widened. Absently she pushed her glossy waves over her shoulder. "A letter from my brother at home. Amrothos is watching the lands in my father's stead. He sends his good tidings to me as well as several stories that might give me reason to smile."

"Reason?" He questioned and she tipped her head lower, averting her eyes.

"I believe you know my father was wounded in the Battle of Morannon. That's why I'm here, I was sent to help tend to him, he has no fondness for medicine and makes for a difficult patient," she said and shrugged her shoulders. Eomer noticed that the neck of her dress cut wide and fell just to the edge of her shoulders. Her collar was pronounced as it curved up to her elegant neck. With a jolt he realized she had the same handsome and delicate features as her father, who had elven lineage.

"Most men make for difficult patients," he said and her laughter filled his ears once again.

Absently he took another bite of the apple. "Yes, but most men don't get frustrated with the nurses and hurl bedpans at the doorway as they flee." Eomer didn't have to try and conjure the thought. He had come to know Imrahil quite well in the last weeks and had heard much about his beloved daughter. It was a wonder he did not recognize his features in her immediately.

He was about to reply when a voice cried from the other side of the courtyard. Upon looking up he found a handmaiden rushing toward them. "My lady Lothiriel! You were supposed to be dressing for breakfast half an hour ago!" Quickly the homely girl skidded to a halt and curtsied to both of them. "My Lord Eomer," she said breathless.

The urge to smile was almost impossible to avoid as Eomer noted the blush rise in the maiden's cheeks. Apparently Lothiriel was correct about the maids. "I am sorry my Lord I must take my leave."

"My Lady," he said and bowed as the handmaiden suddenly whisked her away. He watched her brown waves swing behind her and wondered if Lothiriel would be wearing shoes the next time he saw her.

The prologue is short…I just wanted them to meet so Eomer could form his first impression. The bulk of the story will be written in third person through Lothiriel's vantage. It will switch every so often to another character.

Please tell me what you think, reviews are love—Brose