Lothiriel, princess of Dol Amroth, sat back on her heels and sighed in relief. She had only just arrived in Minas Tirith; the way from Dol Amroth finally being pronounced safe enough for her to travel up for the new King's coronation. She had always felt stifled by the quantity of stone in this city, and tried to find excuses to escape wherever possible. While she loved riding out of the city as often as she could, it was always hard to brush the mud out of her beautiful horse's long blond tail, let alone the rest of her. Finally, she had finished and rose to put her brushes away. She had been aware for some time of one of the other horses in the large stables kicking gently at the sides of a stall. Now she heard a nicker from the same stall, so she felt she had to investigate.
The large stables at Minas Tirith currently housed horses belonging to people from all over Middle-Earth. Her own horse was stalled between a powerful grey from Rohan and her father's own roan. Walking swiftly towards the source of the noise, she was soon standing in front of the largest grey war horse she had ever seen. "What ails you, my friend?" she asked the horse softly, who snorted and nodded his head towards her, pushing his nose into her outstretched hand. Lothiriel laughed softly at his antics and produced a chunk of carrot from one of her capacious cloak pockets. Looking at the tack hanging on the nails in the stallion's stall, she knew the horse to belong to one of the Rohirrim. "Will you let me see to you?" she asked, a frown of worry crossing her face as the stallion kicked out at the wall again.
The horse snorted, but backed away from the door, as if to grant her entrance.
Slowly, Lothiriel entered the stall, talking softly all the time as she approached the horse and ran her soft hands over his flanks, looking for any abnormalities. Her fingers closed over something in the leg that the stallion had been kicking out with, and she gently pulled it out, staring with horror at the small, evil-looking dart in her hand.
"I must go, my friend" she told the stallion quickly, running her free hand down the velvety nose as she left, running out of the stable, colliding headlong with a man who was just walking through the doors.
Strong hands steadied her and she looked up at the large, blond haired man apologetically. "Forgive me, my Lord, I did not see you" she said, realising as she spoke that the young man was a Rohirric Warrior. "Do you know where I might find someone to take care of one of your horses?" she asked, seeing a frown of worry cross the man's face. The men of Rohan cared for their horses as deeply as their own kin.
"What has happened?" he asked quickly, his dark eyes fixing on her face.
A little unnerved by the intense gaze, Lothiriel showed him the dart she had taken from the stallions leg. "The big grey stallion had this stuck at the top of his foreleg. He was kicking out, and I think he's in a lot of pain."
The soldier's eyes had widened as she described the horse. "Show me" he said shortly.
Lothiriel, touched by the worried expression, hurried back to the horse, the big man easily keeping pace beside her with his long strides. As she paused in front of the stallion, the soldier hissed sharply. The horse nickered at his approach, but did not come to meet him. "Firefoot" the soldier said, a touch of panic in his deep voice as he turned to Lothiriel. "I need to beg a favour" he said. "Do you know where the Rohan guest quarter is?"
Lothiriel nodded.
"Ask for Eothain, tell him the King's horse may have been poisoned with Akailen. Please hurry." The soldier turned back to the wounded horse and Lothiriel picked up her skirts and ran through the city.
She arrived moments later, breathless and panting, coming to a halt abruptly as the two men guarding the gate to the Rohan quarter crossed their spears in her path.
"State your business" one said, not unkindly as he took in her panicked state.
"I have been sent to find Eothain" Lothiriel managed, trying to catch her breath. "The King's horse may have been poisoned with Akailen."
Her words caused one of the guards to drop his spear and run into the Rohan housing before she had even finished.
"How do you know?" the other asked, his concern showing in his eyes.
"I pulled a dart from his leg. I met one of your kin as I made to leave the stables, and he said it might have been poisoned."
"The King rode out this morning" the guard said. "The dart must have been shot at him. We must find the King." The last sentence was spoken within the returning guard's hearing as he hurried back with an older, grizzled man in tow.
"The King headed for the stables several minutes ago" the older man, who Lothiriel presumed to be Eothain, said as he passed. "Inside the city walls, he should be safe, but send two men to me anyway. I must go to Firefoot. Would you like to see how he fares?" he asked Lothiriel politely, adding as they moved off: "If it is the King who sent you to me, he will be no help at all. I will need him out of the way."
In moments, they were back in the stables. The soldier was speaking to the horse in rapid, lilting Rohirric, but turned as they approached.
"He is getting worse; he is unsteady on his feet and he is feeling pain" he said, looking for all the world like the parent of an ill baby.
"Yes, my lord" Eothain replied in a comfortable voice, putting a strong hand on his shoulder. "Now if you would just follow the lady outside, I can see what needs to be done." With that, the bigger man was pushed gently but firmly out of the stall. "Send a guard in to me when they arrive, my Lord"
Lothiriel looked up at the big soldier, who was apparently the King of Rohan. He swept a big hand through his long blond hair and turned his worried gaze back to his horse. "Come with me" she said, putting a gentle hand to his elbow and pulling him with her out of the stable. The rain had stopped and the warm sun had dried a low bench that stood on the side of the path. Lothiriel led the King over to the bench and sat him down. "Eothain will know what to do" she said soothingly, patting his arm as she watched his lack of response with some concern. Rapid footsteps made her look up to see two of the Rohirrim approaching. They stopped in front of the bench and bowed. "My lord King, what news?" one asked respectfully. Eomer just looked up at them and frowned.
"Eothain is with Firefoot" Lothiriel said, when it became apparent that the King was not going to reply. "He has asked for one of you to help him." The guards turned quizzical eyes on her and then they both saluted the King, one retreating to stand guard a short distance away as the other slipped into the stables.
They sat for some minutes in silence, and then the King turned to Lothiriel, his eyes seeming to focus properly for the first time since they had met. "Forgive me" he said, his deep voice slow as his dark gaze swept over her. "In my worry I sent you on errands without even knowing who you are. We are a simple people, in the Riddermark. When it comes to trouble with our horses, all niceties are forgotten."
"Please do not apologise" Lothiriel said earnestly, adding with a smile: "My brothers are exactly the same. I am Lothiriel of Dol Amroth, and I presume you must be the King of Rohan?"
"My name is Eomer." He told her. "You are Prince Imrahil's daughter? I am indeed ashamed of my behaviour, my Lady. Imrahil would be horrified if he knew I sent his only daughter on an errand about a horse."
"Yes, well, it is not as though I look like a Princess" Lothiriel pointed out, gesturing at her stained riding dress. "So I think you can be forgiven. And anyway, Father needs to learn that his notions of what is 'proper' is getting a little-old fashioned." The very unladylike face she pulled as she said this surprised a genuine laugh out of the man sat at her side.
And then the guard returned from the stable. "My Lord King" he called.
Eomer was instantly on his feet and made it to the door in three long strides. Lothiriel followed at a slower pace, anxious to hear the outcome.
Eothain turned at his King's approach. "It was a good thing the dart was seen" he said, his gravely voice easily reaching where Lothiriel stood in the shadow just inside the doorway. "He would have been in trouble if all of the poison had been released."
That was all that Lothiriel wanted to hear. Not wishing to intrude any longer, she slipped out of the doors, heading for home.
"Excuse me, miss?" one of the Rohirric guards called out in rough westron as she passed.
Lothiriel paused and turned.
"Thank you for saving Firefoot, my Lady" he said, colour rising to his cheeks, as he added: "May I ask your name?"
Lothiriel realised then how young the soldier was; he could certainly have been no older than her nineteen summers. "I am Lothiriel of Dol Amroth" she said. "I did only what I hope any other would have done, but I am glad Firefoot is well."
"Your name will be honoured amongst our kin" the other guard put in.
Lothiriel felt the colour rising to her cheeks at the fervent tone. "You have my thanks" she managed, dropping a slight curtsey as she left.
It was in a thoughtful mood that Lothiriel bathed and dressed for dinner that evening. Her maid's expression changed from concern to bordering on panic at Lothiriel's unusually distant mood. "Are you well, my Lady?" she asked as she brushed out her charge's long dark curls.
Lothiriel blinked, pulling herself together. "I am sorry, Hileth" she said, smiling up at the grey-haired maid. "I had a busy afternoon, helping at the stables."
Hileth shook her head. "You must try to behave with a little more decorum at Minas Tirith, my Lady" she said, a touch of reproach in her croaking voice.
"Yes, Hileth" Lothiriel said demurely, the sparkle in her grey eyes giving away her amusement at her old maid's scolding tone.
Hileth sighed. "I know it is no use telling you, my Lady. You were ever a wilful child. But we have little time now before dinner. You will be dining in the King's hall for the first time tonight, my Lady. What will you wear?"
Lothiriel sighed. "Nothing that makes me look of marriageable age?" she asked hopefully, adding: "I hate the crawling attentions I receive at this court. Do you remember Lord Kailien?"
Hileth barely repressed a shudder. "He was not the nicest of men, I will admit. Nevertheless, your Father has requested you to be suitably attired. You must just make sure Amrothos looks after you."
Lothiriel laughed out loud. "Hileth, you know as well as I do how much Amrothos loves strutting about in this court. I will not see him all evening. I suppose I will just have to stand demurely beside Father and have the headache as soon as soon as I can after dinner is over. Otherwise I will be forced to dance with all those slobbering unmarried Gondorian men."
"You forget our foreign guests" Hileth reminded her as she crossed to the wardrobe. "I have heard that they are not so barbaric as the stories would have us believe."
Lothiriel recalled a pair of worried dark eyes and suppressed a small smile. "Perhaps not" she said quietly.
Half an hour later saw Lothiriel descending the stairs slowly, dressed simply, but elegantly in a midnight blue gown, embroidered with silver thread. Her long hair was brushed until it shone, and fell loose down her back. Lothiriel had seen the dramatically coiffed and powdered courtiers of Gondor, and had swiftly decided that the look was not for her. Her Father was waiting for her, along with only two of her brothers, the eldest having remained at Dol Amroth with his wife and newborn son.
"Lothiriel, you make an old man proud" Imrahil said, kissing his only daughter on the cheek and holding an arm for her to take.
Lothiriel laughed as she slid her hand into the crook of his arm. "Ada, you are not so old" she told him. "Why, I only see one or two grey hairs."
Imrahil frowned as his sons laughed. "Where?" he demanded.
"Peace, Ada, you are as handsome as ever" Lothiriel soothed him.
"Ada, it is time" Imrahil's second born, Erchirion, opened the door as he said this, standing back to let his Father go first.
"Now, my daughter, you remember what I told you?" Imrahil asked as they walked the short distance to the banquet hall.
Lothiriel nodded, knowing how worried her father was that she would do something un-ladylike when she made her first appearance at court in front of the new King. "Yes, Ada. I will not let you down" she reassured him.
They reached the banqueting hall, and joined the small queue of dignitaries waiting to make their bows to the new King and his soon-to-be Queen. Imrahil nodded greetings to those he knew as they waited.
Lothiriel was very aware of the eyes on her as she waited demurely beside her father. She had only been in Minas Tirith for two days, and aside for her ride earlier on that afternoon had not been out of the family home. Inwardly, she sighed. She felt she was in for a long night.
The time had come to make her curtsey. She felt the strength of the new King's handshake from her clasp on her father's other arm. As he enthusiastically greeted her father, Lothiriel risked a look up at the King of Gondor, marvelling at the sight of the stern-faced tall man, with such brightness in his eyes. Blinking as she heard her father introduce her, she let go of his arm and managed to curtsey just at the right time. She rose to see the King smiling down at her. "Welcome, Princess Lothiriel" he said, his deep voice melodious as it seemed to hold a touch of elvish lyricism. "May I present the Lady Arwen, who is soon to be Queen of Gondor?"
Lothiriel looked upon the elven lady for the first time and was shocked when Arwen stood, gracefully moving towards her. Quickly she curtseyed low, and stood to look in awe at the beauty of the fair being who smiled so kindly at her. "I would speak with you, after dinner" Arwen said, hear voice as beautiful as the most haunting elvish melody. She bent close to the Princess and whispered: "you seem as if you would be refreshingly different company from most of my courtiers."
Lothiriel grinned: she couldn't help it, and she saw that Arwen's eyes brimmed with amusement.
"As my Lady wishes" she replied, curtseying again and sharing another smile as she left, breathing a sigh of relief that she had not said or done anything to horrify her staid father.
Making her way across towards the top table beside her father, she stopped as a tall man stepped in front of them and took her father's arm in a warriors embrace.
"Imrahil" a deep voice said; one that Lothiriel instantly recognised and she looked up to meet dark eyes, that had darted quickly to meet hers, a smile flaring within their depths.
She felt the colour rising to her cheeks, but smiled back.
"I come to offer my thanks to your daughter. Her quick actions today saved me from losing my horse to a terrible poison."
Imrahil looked quickly at Lothiriel. "You did not mention this" he said, surprised.
"I didn't do much, I just found a dart in his foreleg" Lothiriel explained quickly, hoping that being that involved with a horse that was not her own would not count in her father's view as 'improper'.
"My men are already speaking your name with awe, my Lady" Eomer's deep voice was surprisingly gentle. "Most would not venture anywhere near my excessively bad-mannered horse. They think you quite the bravest woman in Gondor."
"But I did not know of poor Firefoot's ill manners, my Lord, so I was not so brave" Lothiriel told him, trying to keep the smile from her face.
"Nevertheless, my lady, you have my thanks" Eomer said. "Perhaps you will save me a dance tonight?"
"Perhaps, my Lord" Lothiriel replied, slightly shocked by the daring of her response.
The King of Rohan, however, merely shot her a grin and bowed, before moving to his seat.
"You did not tell me you had met Eomer King" Imrahil said as he pulled out his daughter's chair at their table.
"I did not know I had, at first" Lothiriel admitted. "I am glad Firefoot is well. He had been shot by a poisoned dart, Ada" she added, frowning. "Lord Eomer had ridden out of the city. Perhaps the King should be informed."
Imrahil's face was grave. "I shall speak with Elessar" he told her. "But, for tonight, my daughter, we may think of pleasure. We are safe within the walls of the white city."
Dinner passed without incident. Lothiriel's healthy appetite was sated and she picked at the sweetmeats, content to listen to the conversation that was flowing around her as she found herself curiously distracted by the smile that had shone in a pair of fine dark eyes.
Before long, the lower tables were cleared, and the time had come for the dancing to begin. With a wave of dread, Lothiriel spotted a young, acne-spotted, courtier of Gondor, who had spent the evening trying to catch her eye, oiling his way over to her.
At that moment, Lothiriel caught sight of a flash of golden hair as a slender figure darted in front of her and bowed over her hand. "I beg leave to introduce myself, my Lady" a soft, musical voice with a laughing edge to it came from a slender elf that Lothiriel had heard of only through tales. "I am Legolas, friend to the King. The Lady Arwen has bid me invite you to her table shortly. I must confess I am a little early in my errand, but I could not bear the thought of that unusual-looking youth spoiling your dress with his surprisingly oily skin. Perhaps you would grant me this dance for providing you such a service?"
Lothiriel looked into clear blue eyes sparkling with merriment coupled with a bright smile and could not help but laugh. "My Lord, it is the least I can do to repay you" she told him. One quick glance at her father gained her permission and she placed her hand upon Legolas' ready arm.
"I confess, it was not just the thought of your fine dress being spoiled that brought me to your side, my Lady" Legolas confessed as they took their places in the set. "Arwen told me you were an unrivalled beauty, and I wanted to see for myself. She was not wrong and I am glad, for I heard that all ladies of Gondor have taken to wearing powder, and have to started to assume the most extraordinary manners. I am glad to find that I was misinformed."
Lothiriel, quite at a loss to know what to respond to such unusual flattery, faltered in her dance step, and was caught quickly by a surprisingly strong, slender arm.
"I apologise, my Lady" Legolas said, suddenly serious. "I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I heard you saved Eomer King's horse from a poisoned dart?"
The abrupt change in conversation made Lothiriel blink. "I did not realise it would bring such excitement" she said honestly.
The smile was back in Legolas' bright eyes. "Ahh, but you have not known the horse or his master for long" he said. "They are both renowned for the shortness of their temper. We are all just surprised that one or the other did not bite you."
Lothiriel felt the laughter bubbling up inside her as she imagined the King of Rohan attempting to wrap his teeth around her arm. One look at Legolas made her sure that he knew what she was thinking, as he broke out into light laughter. "I will be careful to avoid their teeth" she promised, as the dance ended. She curtseyed and Legolas gave her an elven bow, bringing his hand to his chest and sweeping it away.
"I thank you for coming to rescue me" Lothiriel said, as Legolas steered her out of the press of couples on the dance floor, heading toward Arwen's table. "I was not looking forward to tonight. All the most unsavoury characters presume to ask for a dance whenever I am at court. It was a relief to dance with someone who did not step on my feet."
"I will do all in my power to ensure the continued health of your toes" Legolas promised her merrily as they stepped up to the King's table.
The look of amusement on Arwen's face as Lothiriel looked up to her made her realise quite how good elven hearing was.
"I leave you in safe hands, my Lady" Legolas said, bowing and placing the lightest of kisses on Lothiriel's hand and granting her one last sweet smile before he disappeared off into the crowd.
Lothiriel turned and curtseyed to the Elven Lady sat in front of her.
"There is no need, Lothiriel" Arwen told her earnestly, gesturing to the chair beside her. "With all the words your brothers and father have spoken of you, I feel I know you already. You seem to have found an admirer in my elven friend."
Lothiriel blushed. "He said he only danced with me to protect me from Lord Asrai" she said.
Arwen raised an eyebrow, but only smiled. "So, how does court life now compare to how it was before?" she asked.
Lothiriel thought for a moment. "The atmosphere is much less oppressive, but the women have become more keen to find a suitable husband" she said, the honest remark springing from her lips before she could stop it.
"So I have heard" Arwen said, seemingly unaffected by the princess' unguarded comment. "I think some of Estel's friends are quite alarmed by the traps that have been set to catch them. I hear your father is thinking of finding a suitable match for you."
Lothiriel groaned and smiled wryly. "Please don't remind him; he seems to have forgotten about it for today. Although, I am less concerned with moving to Minas Tirith than I was before the war, should a match be made. I am glad, however, for my poor cousin Faramir that Lady Eowyn has captured his heart, for my father had hoped my betrothal to Boromir would pass to him."
"You were betrothed to Boromir?" Arwen said, surprised. "I am sorry; I did not know."
"It would not have been formally announced until I came of age" Lothiriel said. "It was arranged when I was in my cradle. I never really knew Boromir. By the time I was old enough to travel here, he was training in the army. Faramir was always very kind to me, though. I am glad he is so happy; he deserves to be."
"I think you are to be stolen away from me" Arwen said suddenly, her head lifting as if listening to something. "Do return if you are able; there is only so much simpering attention I can cope with in one day."
As she finished speaking, Lothiriel heard the lilting tones of the new King, and then an unmistakeable deep voice speak a reply. She looked up into the increasingly familiar darkest brown eyes and then away as Aragorn spoke.
"My Lady Lothiriel, may I present Eomer King as a worthy dance partner?" His stern features were lifted in a smile, his eyes sparkling.
"How can I refuse my King?" Lothiriel teased gently as she rose from her seat. She curtseyed to Aragorn and then turned, greeting Eomer with a demure smile, holding her hand out to him.
In a surprisingly graceful movement for one so large, Eomer bent and kissed her slim fingers, before leading her down to the dance floor. "Why do you think I asked Aragorn for his assistance?" he said as they walked. "I had to be sure I managed at least one dance with you. The damned elf already beat me to it once. I would not have it happen again."
It was not until the dance began that Lothiriel took her first proper look at Eomer, King of Rohan. She herself was not short, but he was far taller than she, and powerfully built. His long blond hair was loose and fell in soft waves about his tanned face. His dark eyes caught hers and she felt unable to look away, finding herself drawn into their stormy depths.
And then he blinked, bringing Lothiriel back into the moment with a start.
"You disappeared earlier" Eomer said. He spoke softly, but his deep voice easily cut through all the noise in the large hall. "I was sorry I did not have the chance to thank you."
"There was no need" Lothiriel assured him. "I could not leave an animal in pain."
"To be honest, I was surprised Firefoot let you near him" Eomer told her. "He does not always have the sweetest temperament."
Lothriel, thinking of Legolas' words earlier, laughed before she could stop herself. She peeked up to see Eomer's quizzical look. "Prince Legolas mentioned that to me" she explained, evasively.
Eomer's eyes narrowed. "Those were his words?" he demanded.
Lothiriel squirmed under his piercing gaze. "Do not be angry with him, my Lord, but he said he was surprised that you or your horse did not attempt to bite me, given the shortness of your tempers" she confessed, biting her lip to keep from laughing on the outrage that flashed across the other's face.
His grip tightened for the merest fraction of a second. "He did, did he?" he said, his voice forcibly calm. "He was jesting, my Lord, I am sure" Lothiriel said quickly, hoping to calm him and that she had not caused Legolas any trouble.
"Do not defend him, my Lady" Eomer said, his good humour beginning to return. "I assure you that Legolas is well able to defend himself; at least he thinks he is. The first time we met he threatened to shoot me, with my fully armed Eored surrounding him."
"I think, perhaps, one so immune to fear needs no defence" Lothiriel mused. "Perhaps he was dropped on his golden head as an Elfling to have been afflicted so." She clapped a hand over her mouth in horror as she realised what he said, but her partner laughed heartily, causing the heads of those nearest them to turn.
"I will be sure to ask him when we next meet" Eomer promised, as the dance ended. Again, he bowed gracefully and placed a light kiss on her hand, his neatly trimmed beard tickling her fingers delightfully. "Will you walk with me on the terrace, Princess?" he asked.
"I would be honoured, my Lord King" Lothiriel replied, taking his offered arm and allowing him to steer her expertly through the crowd. The air was not yet too cool, and she took a deep breath in relief as they reached the terrace.
Eomer was watching her, apparently amused. "You do not favour such gatherings, my Lady?" he asked her, inclining his head in response to a smattering of bows and curtseys in his direction as they approached the rail of the terrace, to look down over the city to the Pelennor beyond.
"Usually I avoid court life at all costs" Lothiriel confessed. "I find being my father's daughter a trial at these times. It seems there are many who are far too keen for marriage to royalty."
"I can say without any shred of doubt that I know precisely how you feel" Eomer told her, grinning. "I find all the bowing and being called 'my lord king' bad enough, but it seems that even a Barbarian King from the North has become an eligible match these days."
"And so you have all the fortune-hunters and glory seekers at your door" Lothiriel realised. "You have my sympathy, my Lord."
Eomer winced at the use of the title. "Can I ask you a favour, my Lady?" he asked, leaning against the rail and turning to face her.
Lothiriel looked up into his dark eyes. "Of course" she said.
"Can we dispense with titles, just between us? I know it is not done, in Gondor, but I'm starting to feel like I'm just a very tall stand for a crown, right now. I need some help to keep me sane."
Lothiriel was kept from laughter by the pleading look in that intense gaze. "Of course, Eomer" she said, feeling pleasure at the way the lyrical Rohirric syllables tumbled across her tongue. "After all, we are to be kin when your sister marries my cousin."
"Hush!" Eomer said, "I have not officially agreed to that yet. Aragorn will be upset if we spoil his upcoming celebrations mentioning another wedding." He grinned. "Besides, I may not agree to it. It will be difficult to manage without Eowyn in Edoras."
"I think you must take care who you say that to" Lothiriel told him. "Or you will find yourself tripping over all the unmarried women of Gondor."
Eomer grimaced. "I must count on you to help me escape their clutches. Perhaps you may join me for a visit tomorrow. I go to my sister, for she is not quite well enough yet to leave the healing houses. Your cousin will no doubt be there also."
"I would like that" Lothiriel said, smiling warmly. "I have not seen Faramir for a long time. He was always kind to me when we were younger; it would be good to see him again."
"Do not be surprised if he does not hear a word that you say" Eomer warned. "I fear he loses much of his good sense when my sister is near."
Lothiriel laughed at the thought of her quiet, studious cousin staring vacantly at a blonde woman, ignoring all else around him. "I will take that chance" she said. "Any opportunity to get away from the fawning attentions of Gondor's courtiers will be most welcome."
Eomer grinned. "If you ever need assistance, just look my way Lothiriel. I will be only too willing to step in. It's strange, but these young men of Gondor seem to go pale when I approach them."
Taking in his tall, broad form, Lothiriel could understand why.
"Lothiriel"
The deep voice seemed to caress her name. Lothiriel suddenly struggled to meet his eyes. "Yes, Eomer?"
"There you are, Thiri." The voice made Lothiriel blink. She turned to see the youngest of her brothers.
"Yes, Amrothos?" Lothiriel asked, wondering at the disappointment she felt that her conversation with Eomer was to be at an end.
"Father was asking after you. I walked past at the wrong time, so have been sent to deliver you to him." As he put his arm out for her, he continued. "It's really Legolas' fault. You're the only one he's danced with all night. Father's terrified that the elf has taken a fancy to you."
"Don't be ridiculous, Rothos" Lothiriel said. Turning to Eomer, a pleading look in her eyes, she said: "perhaps my Lord Eomer may be trusted to deliver me safely to Ada. You may get back to your ale and your courtiers."
Amrothos pretended to consider that for a moment. Finally he nodded. "Tell Ada I did my duty?"
"Of course" Lothiriel promised.
Amrothos sketched a bow to Eomer with a grin. "Failure to return my sister may be seen as an act of war, my Lord" he said.
"Fear not, Amrothos. Your sister has become most revered by the Rohirrim, did you not know? I swear to protect her."
Amrothos' quizzical gaze stared after them as Eomer deftly steered Lothiriel into the crowd.
"Poor Rothos" Lothiriel mused. "You know he has no idea what you were talking about."
Eomer shrugged. "I'm sure he will survive" he told her. "I will see you tomorrow? I will be at the healing houses by noon."
"I will be there" Lothiriel promised, wondering at the heat that lightly tinged her cheeks as she spoke.
They had arrived at her father's side and so she did not have the time to think it over before Eomer bent to kiss her fingers once more. "Until tomorrow" he whispered, his dark eyes flashing that same secret smile as he rose and nodded to her father, before being lost once more to the crowd.
"Are you ready to leave, daughter?" Imrahil asked her, his brow furrowed as he studied her. "You are flushed, Lothiriel. Do you feel well?"
Lothiriel smiled up at him. "I am a little tired, Ada" she said. "It has been a long day, so soon after arriving here from home." Knowing her father to be convinced of the frailty of women, she knew her excuse would be accepted without question. As she was expecting, Imrahil took her arm and made their excuses to be leaving.
Before long, they were back in their Minas Tirith home. Lothiriel slipped away up to her bedchamber as soon as she could, glad that her father had not questioned her appearance on the arm of the King of Rohan. Resolutely pushing all thoughts of those haunting dark eyes out of her mind, Lothiriel was soon asleep.