First of all, thanks for the reviews to the "Worries" - I am absolutely blushing from embarrassment ...!

To Elegant Couture: You asked for it, baby!

To Eokat: Thank you for your kind words!

To Sandry of Ruatha: Thank you for the praise. I do know that the king of Gondor and the king of Rohan are equals - I looked at the text again and realized that I might have made the impression that they were not .... but what the heck, you live and you learn ..

Thus encouraged, I try again ... also with a short thing:

SHADOWS OF THE PAST

Lothíriel awoke; in her sleep she had heard somebody call out. It was getting lighter outside, but it was not yet near dawn as far as she could tell. In the dim light she looked at her husband, who was tossing and turning, again crying out in his sleep.

She could not tell exactly what he was saying; he was calling for somebody or something in Rohirric, a language which she did not yet master; the only thing she could distinguish was Éowyn's name.

They had only been married for a couple of weeks and she had not yet properly adjusted to sleeping with or next to somebody; although - sleeping was not what they had done most and last night had been no different. They had both been left breathless and sated by their ardent lovemaking and they had fallen asleep in each other's arms, just like most nights after their wedding.

She sat up in bed and looked at him apprehensively, not quite sure whether she should wake him or not. She did not, however, have to make the decision; suddenly Éomer called out once more and jerked up, looking wildly about him. Lothíriel placed a hand on his arm, saying his name softly. He turned towards her, his eyes seeing her and not seeing her but when he felt her soft touch, he seemed to relax and lay back in the pillows with a sigh.

'What was it, my love? What happened?' she asked quietly.

He drew in his breath; 'Old nightmares, Lothy. I am sorry, did I wake you?' He turned towards her, his eyes almost black and sombre.

'You never did this before, but then I have not slept beside you that long. What are these dreams? What were you calling out?'

'It has been an occuring dream ever since the battle of Pelennor – not every night, and mostly when I start to feel that I might have forgot; I dream that I find Éowyn beside the body of my uncle – and I cannot wake her .... and then I dream of the killing; the killing that I did in my rage; and it does not end, I just go on and on ........ and I end up seeing myself, all bloodied and enraged .... and I do not recognize the man, I have become – and then I wake up.' Éomer's voice trailed off.

Lothíriel moved closer to him, holding him tight. 'Have you talked to no one about this?'

'How could I; I think that Aragorn has long suspected that I had trouble dealing with this, but we have not discussed it. I could not speak to Éowyn – or to Faramir. They have suffered themselves and fight their own ghosts. And being the king - whom could I talk to; to whom could I admit this weakness?

'I am the king; I should be strong and courageous. My people look up to me. I cannot admit that killing for killing's sake trouble me. Lothy, I know that they were monsters; that they deserved it – but this was blind rage; could I have stopped at this – or would I have proceeded, if somebody like your father had not stopped me?' His voice broke, a raspy sound in his throat.

He buried his face against her shoulder; she felt his tears warm against her skin, and she just held him. Never had she thought that this big, strong warrior who always seemed so determined and deliberate and who always seemed to have purpose in every stride could harbour such terrible memories.

She stroked his hair and mumbled softly encouraging words 'You never talked about this before', she said softly.

Éomer lifted his head 'What would you have thought of a man, if he had burdened you with such things when he courted you?'

'No, Lothy, I could not – and I would not. I do not believe that I would ever have brought it up, if not .... I thought that our marriage could rid me of such nightmares; I mean I have got other things to think of ..... and making love to you makes me sleep peacefully most nights.' He blushed a bit saying this and let his fingers glide down her arm.

'Would you not have thought it strange, had I told you – it is not exactly things you would talk about with a young maid, whom you plan to woo – and eventually marry.' Éomer could not help smiling.

'True, I would have thought it a bit odd, had you come up with such matters during our courtship and the first days of our married life, I grant you that, but I will never, ever permit you to hold back such matters again, my love. I am your wife – for better and for worse – and I shall help you through this.' Lothíriel said.

'Éomer, my love, you are not a weaker man for being able to admit this what you call weakness. I do understand, and so would everyone else – Aragorn especially. You thought that you had lost everything; your uncle, your sister – and to those evil creatures!' Lothíriel looked at her husband and let her hand glide over his cheek before she continued.

'I do believe that everyone would have acted the way you did. I have heard both my brothers and my father – yes, even Gandalf and Aragorn praise you as one of the bravest of them all. You and the other Rohirrim faced an enemy far greater in numbers than yourselves – and still you faced it without fear. My brothers told me that you brought down two mumakils singlehandedly.' She said, the pride in him showing in her voice.

Éomer smiled wryly and said sarcastically 'Aye, my love, I am a great hero, but that does not change the fact that I feel truly bad about the killing.'

'I do understand how one could loose one's mind, thinking that you are all alone in the world, having lost all you care about – friends, family, loved ones.' Lothíriel took his hand and kissed it, holding it to her cheek.

Éomer continued, looking grim 'I shall never forget seeing Éowyn lying on the ground beside my uncle; I could not feel her breathing – but then I might not have been in a state to recognize it. Only when Aragorn and your father told me that she had been taken to the Houses of Healing did I understand that she was still alive. And I felt numb; Aragorn had to shake me to get me to react, to call Éowyn back as he could not; he said that me she knew and loved; in him she loved only a shadow and a thought ..... and then I knew part of what had sent her out in battle; she wanted to be like me, like Aragorn – to win renown – not just be a woman left to wait and care for the women and children and wait for the men to get back – or else die. I blame myself for not seeing this before.'

Lothíriel nodded; she had been at the Houses of Healing and had seen the dark mood of her husband's sister, and she had guessed the reason.

'Éomer, do not go on blaiming yourself; she is happy now, you know that – she is content with her life as it is now; Faramir's love has made her complete as nothing else could have done. And I hope that my – that our love can do the same for you.'

She looked compellingly at her husband trying to convey all the feelings she had for him; the feelings she had had since she saw him for the first time arriving at the Houses of Healing, fresh from the battle field, his eyes red from crying, and his face smudged with blood and dirt. She had gotten him to clean up before he entered the room where his sister was lying and she had dried his tears.

She had seen him leave with Aragorn and her brothers for the Black Gate; his proud stance just behind Aragorn with the white horse tail flowing from his helmet under the banner with the White Horse. And she had rejoiced in seeing him again when the victorious troops returned to the White City to celebrate the victory.

He had visited his sister – and Merry, the esquire of Rohan at the Houses of Healing, but she had not talked much with him; he was now the king and had a lot to do, but they had seen each other again at Aragorn's coronation and she had stood beside him and her father as they witnessed, when Aragorn and Arwen met again – and looking into his eyes at that moment, she had known that he was the man, she wanted to marry – and to live her life with. As she did now, snuggling up close to him, inhaling his by now familiar scent.

She kissed him on the cheek 'Go to sleep now, my love. Do not fear the shadows of the past; I am not going to leave you, I am right here beside you and I will make them go away.'

Éomer kissed her, drew her close to him so that her cheek rested against his chin and drifted off to sleep.

Lothíriel lay awake for a while, looking at the light seeping through the closed curtains. She heard the even breathing of her husband, and smiled as she looked upon his face. In his sleep, all lines of his torment had been erased and he looked like a young boy, even with his bearded chin.

She smiled as she remembered the first night of the coronation celebrations, where they had danced the night away, his eyes laughing because he enjoyed life and being with her. The night of Aragorn and Arwen's wedding when he had first declared that he was in love with her and that he intended to ask her father for her hand in marriage. The tall, handsome king, who was so different from any of the men in Dol Amroth or Minas Tirith with his long hair, the colour of ripe wheat, the short beard and his dark eyes with the specks of green in them.

He seemed so focused and serious, a dedicated warrior, but she had also seen the passion and the love in them when he spoke about his country and his sister and the passion when he had kissed her for the first time; the joy when she had told him that she was in love with him, too.

Tall and proud he had stood on the stairs of Meduseld; when he had welcomed her and her family to Edoras for their wedding, the pride and love in his eyes when he had taken her hand in marriage and crowned her the queen of the Mark, placing the golden circlet upon her brow and again she had seen the passion in his eyes when he had made love to her for the first time on their wedding night; the green specks in his dark eyes dancing with happiness and love.

Never had she expected such reactions from her husband; his fear and his despair when he told her of his nightmares, but she did not love him less. On the contrary, she felt even closer to him and glad that he was man enough to tell her about it and not just shrug it off as some might have done – for misplaced male pride. Then again, this was the man he was – honest and courageous.

She smiled and snuggled in again, hoping to fall asleep these last few hours before morning, but somehow Éomer must have felt her movement and opened his eyes, although still bleary from sleep. 'Why are you not sleeping, my love?' he asked.

'I was watching you and thinking about the first time I saw you – and other things', she smiled.

'Hmmm, and what were you thinking about in particular?'

'That I would like to chase the shadows away, far away.'

'How do you intend to do that?' Éomer's eyes darkened, the green specks dancing again. It seemed as if he intended to let the shadows pass as he leaned over and kissed her fully on the lips.

'You are on the right track, my king' she whispered and let herself be encircled in his warmth, as the dawn was breaking outside the windows of Meduseld.