Book One: For the Dancing and the Dreaming

Part One:

A.N: 1: A note before we start, while this will follow book canon as closely as I can get it when it comes to what happened before (with a few liberties taken in regards to Lothiriel and the two younger brothers and their position during the war and other such things), I have elected to change one big thing. Eomer and Lothiriel do not meet while Eomer is in Gondor, instead when Imrahil visits Rohan. Also, I think it is pretty easy to figure that Karl Urban is my Eomer, cause damn.

Looking out over the burial mounds, Éomer could scarcely believe both his uncle and cousin were gone. He imagined if he closed his eyes he would hear their laughter drifting down from Meduseld. This was not the way it was supposed to turn out; this shouldn't be his life. Though fate it seemed had its own plans, and now he stood garbed in the cloth of kings.

The land that rolled out before him like a grand living tapestry was his to command, and his to protect. He stood alone, as his sister would soon leave to wed Faramir. Éomer was no stranger to death and loss, his life seemed defined by it. Still, he wondered how much more should be taken from him.

"I had hoped Éowyn had been wrong." Erkenbrand rounded the edge of the mound, his arms resting loosely behind his back. He had watched as his king had left the hall several hours ago, dismissing his counselors with feeble excuses. He had known the younger man since he had been a toddling lad, tripping over his mother's skirts. Never in all his years had he thought the boy would take on the mantle of king. Even so, he knew Éomer to be a good man. One that had proved his worth and would rule Rohan with heart.

"Should I not pay my respects to my uncle? It was he who raised me as his own; he was my king." Éomer knew that there would never be a way to repay all that his uncle had done for him and his sister. He could kneel before his uncle's tomb every day until his bones grew frail and brittle, and still he would never express his thanks well enough.

"Pay your respects, but do not linger on death. Théoden King would not have had it." Erkenbrand placed his hand on the young king's shoulder. So much had been paid by the King's family for the freedom of their people.

"And what would he have had, Erkenbrand? A starving people destined for a hard winter? This war has taken much from us." Éomer turned from the burial mound, his eyes gazing out towards the city.

Everyday Éomer watched as his people toiled to raise Rohan back to the glory she had once been. A glory he feared would never come. So few days had gone by from the end of the war, but already Éomer could see the futility of the work. The Enemy had known with what weapon to strike, and strike they did. Now he feared he would watch as his people slowly died because there was not enough food to fill every belly.

"Much, yes, but not our hope. We are a hearty and hale people, ever have we weathered through difficult times. This shall be no different." Hanging his hand back at his side, Erkenbrand followed his King's gaze. Even now their people worked to ready themselves for the coming winter. The streets were filled and busy, the chatter of everyday life rose up around them.

"Our stores run low, and I would not see our children go hungry." Éomer walked a few steps towards the path that lead back to the hall, stopping to look back at his old friend. He had thought long and hard since news of the stores had reached him. It was his duty to provide for their people, to make sure that they would survive the winter. "What do you recall of The Great Hunt?"

"Much, I had been young when I had first joined the Hunt. It used to be a glorious time. Surely you recall something of it, you were young but not a babe when the last Hunt gathered." Erkenbrand smiled, The Great Hunt had once been an important event in Rohan. Celebrations would start a week before, preparations several more. It was a tradition that had been first observed in the days of Eorl, and one that Rohan hadn't seen in many a year.

"I remember riding out with my father, and how proud Mother was when I brought home a stag." It was one of the few memories Éomer could recall that brought him joy. Mother had been overjoyed when he had rode into Edoras with the stag's antlers strapped to the back of his horse. He still carried the dagger she had fashioned from them. "I believe it is time for our people to remember who they are."

"You mean to bring back The Great Hunt?" It had been a great loss when Theoden King had called off the Hunt after the death of his sister, though no one blamed him. All had thought the Hunt would resume the next year, but their king had been dealt a great blow and could not see reviving the tradition.

"I mean to bring back many traditions. It is time, do you not think?" Back before his uncle's illness, before war waged fiercely on the Mark, he had spoken of the Great Hunt with Theodred. His cousin spoke of his desire to bring back the old traditions. Maybe this was a way to repay his family, but he knew also that it was something his people needed.

"Aye, it is."

Author's Note 2: Alright, so this the first multi-chapter Eomer/Lothiriel story I've done. I've almost got the whole first book plotted out. I'd say it will be about 20 or so chapters long.

Now, I'm doing this story in two "books" mainly because as I was plotting it I realized that it would flow better that way. Though as to how long the second book will be I'm not sure.

Now, I want to give a huge shout-out to uruvielnumenesse over on Tumblr, as she has been a HUGE help in developing this, being my sounding board and generally fangirling over LOTR and Thranduil. Go check out her tumblr, she is a lovely person!

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.