Another sequel to Heart of the Horselord. This takes place about three months after the events of Never Alone.


Holding a rolled up piece of parchment, Eomer walked through the doors onto the porch of Meduseld. He nodded to the guards, then looked out over Edoras. The day was grey and overcast, but not particularly cold for late winter, as evidenced by the number of people he could see out and about. His people were ready for spring. He was ready for spring.

Movement caught his eye and he looked down, saw Elfhelm and Eothain starting up the steps toward him.

"We heard a messenger was let through the gates not long ago?" Elfhelm asked the question as he stepped up on the porch, a wary expression in his eyes.

Eomer nodded, held up the parchment. "Nothing alarming. Gimli and his dwarves have arrived at the caves, and he wished me to know that work on the wall is commencing. He's suggesting in his usual shy manner that I should come see for myself."

"Now? In winter?" Eothain asked.

Elfhelm grinned. "Does he not remember you're still somewhat recently wed, and that your lady wife may not pleased if you hare off to Helm's Deep?"

Refusing to rise to the bait, Eomer said, "He suggests I bring her with me, so he can meet her."

Elfhelm raised an eyebrow, but before the other man could respond, Eomer turned to Eothain. "We'll be on horseback, so could make it in a day if need be, and there are places along the way we could take shelter if a storm strikes."

Eothain looked thoughtful. "And we'll have the tents…" he said slowly.

Eomer felt like a child trying to convince his parents to let him do something he badly wanted to do, and resentment flared for a quick moment before being stifled. Eothain took his role as captain of the guard seriously – nearly too much so. But neither friendship nor awareness of how quickly his friend would sacrifice his life for those in his charge would allow Eomer to express that frustration.

Eothain finally nodded, and smiled. "It would be good to get out of Edoras for a while."

Eomer grinned back, could not resist teasing him. "I have your permission then?"

Elfhelm made a strangled sound that might have been laughter, and turned from them, while a dull red made its way slowly up Eothain's face. When he responded, his voice was stiff. "You do not need any permission from me. You know that, sire."

Eomer sighed, wished he'd held his tongue. Wished he could tease his oldest friend the way he used to. "I was jesting with you," he said quietly. "What I know is that I need to be certain you will always tell me if you think something is dangerous, whether I want to hear it or not."

Obviously uncomfortable, Eothain nodded. Elfhelm had turned back to them, a sober look on his face. "When do you think to go?" he asked.

Grateful for the change of subject, Eomer looked thoughtfully out over Edoras, then back to the two men. "I haven't spoken of it yet to Lisswyn, but was thinking perhaps in two days' time?" He deliberately phrased it as a question.

Eothain nodded. "I'll go let the men know, and check that the tents are in good repair."

Eomer watched him go, aware that much of his earlier enthusiasm had vanished.

"Do not let it trouble you," Elfhelm said softly. "He has not yet forgotten the orcs separating you, then watching them target you when he was unable to help you. He feels his duty keenly – not just to the friend of his childhood, but to the people of the Riddermark."

"I know. But I miss the friend of my childhood." He hadn't meant to speak the words aloud.

"He will never lose his vigilance, and that is the way it should be. But as time passes without further threat, he'll relax. You were too newly king, he was too newly the captain of your guard when the orc attack occurred. He still feels he failed you."

"It's been months, and wasn't his fault."

"He will never see the latter, and as to the former – most of those months you've been safely tucked up in Meduseld. He'll be fine, Eomer, once he sees that leaving the walls of Edoras doesn't automatically mean danger to you."

Grateful for the wisdom in the older man's words, Eomer nodded. "Perhaps this trip will help."

"No doubt it will. Now hadn't you better go warn the queen of your plans?"


"Ah. Finally."

Lisswyn looked up from her basket of colored thread and smiled at the satisfaction in Eomer's tone. "What?"

"I've been looking all over for you. Hilde said she thought you were down at Eothain and Ceolwyn's, but Ceolwyn said you'd just left and gone to consult with Mylla on something at the healer's cottage. So I went there, only to have Mylla tell me that she thought you were in the kitchens. And then Tille said she thought you were down in the weaving room…"

Knowing from his tone it was nothing serious, and nearly helpless with laughter at his expression, Lisswyn walked over to him, slipped her hands up around his neck. "It's true – my morning has been rather busy, but I'm sorry you couldn't find me. Perhaps I can make it up to you."

Humor glinted in his eyes. "Oh? And how are you going to do that?"

"Like this." She tugged his head down, and brushed his lips with hers, lightly, rather teasingly, then again. Was unsurprised when his arms came around her, pulled her firmly against him.

"So far, your debt is only deepening, my lady," he murmured against her mouth.

With a smile, she yielded, opening completely to him. They'd been wed for nearly four months and she was coming to know his body as well as her own, knew the pleasure they could bring one another. How was it, then, that a simple kiss could still move her so?

As always when he kissed her, she lost track of time, and when he lifted his head, pressed his lips against her hair, they were both a bit out of breath. "You may have paid off the debt you incurred by forcing me to hunt all over Edoras for you," he muttered, "but now you owe me for starting something we can't finish until tonight." Tension and humor were intermingled in his voice.

Lisswyn laughed and rubbed her cheek against him. "Why were you looking for me?"

"What?"

At the confusion in his voice, she looked up, realized his mind was still on the kiss, and felt something sweet shift inside her that she could affect him so. Trying to stifle more laughter, she repeated, "Why were you searching for me?"

Red tinged his cheeks, and he gave her a mock scowl, then stepped back a bit and handed her a rather crumpled piece of rolled up parchment he'd been holding. "Gimli and his dwarves arrived at Helm's Deep a few weeks ago. He'd like for us to come for a visit – he wants to meet you, wants me to see the progress being made on the rebuilding of the wall and his plans for the caves."

Gimli. Stories of his heroism during the war were often accompanied by jokes about his love of ale and comments about his gruffness. She'd never met a dwarf – had never even seen one – and the thought of meeting Gimli, with his reputation for both heroics and bluntness, made her just a bit nervous.

But there was such a hopeful look in Eomer's eyes. It wasn't just that he wanted to see his friend, though that was most of it. It was also a chance to escape Edoras for a while. Though their marriage had helped, the past four months had not been easy on him. It was the longest period of time he'd been in one place since joining his first eored, or so Elfhelm had told her. He was used to being out and going, to long days of riding over the plains of the Mark. Being cooped up in Edoras had been an adjustment for him, perhaps had been the hardest part of becoming king.

She smiled, reached up to cup his cheek. "When do we leave?"

Relief came into his eyes as he turned, pressed his lips against her palm. He'd been afraid she wouldn't want to go, she realized. Didn't he know she'd willingly and cheerfully follow him anywhere?

"In two days' time." Apparently anticipating her response, he added, "There's a lot to do to get ready, but the people of Meduseld know what needs to be done."

"Of course." Having seen how well the king's household worked together, she wasn't surprised.

"I'm going to go let Ealdred and Betta know." He kissed her and walked out, his step quick and light-hearted.

Lisswyn stared down at the parchment in her hand and felt some of her good mood drain away. She unrolled the parchment, stared down at it.

He thought she could read. Why else would he have handed it to her?

Taking the parchment, she went over and sat down next to the fire, spread it open on her lap. The marks meant words. She knew that. But how did you know which curve meant what word?

Annoyed, she crumpled the parchment up again. Outside of the nobility in Edoras, very few Eorlingas knew how to read and write. And Eomer should know that. Did know that. He wasn't out of touch with his people. So why did he seem to assume she was an exception?

No one in her village had known their letters. And some, like her uncle, had expressed nothing but derision for those who had so little real work to do – as he had put it – that they had time to spend reading and writing. Lisswyn had never agreed with him. There was something magical about being able to keep a physical record of important things. Of being able to communicate with people far away, via a piece of parchment. But there had been no one to teach her.

And now, her husband seemed to assume she knew.

No, that wasn't fair. If he really thought about it, he'd know. And maybe it was some sort of compliment as to how well she was settling in at Edoras, becoming a member of the nobility, that he'd momentarily forgotten.

But still…as queen, it was a skill she should have, and Eomer wouldn't be the only one assuming she knew how. So she would have to learn. But oh, she was dreading telling him. Even knowing it was an unreasonable expectation for him to have of her, even knowing that he probably did know it, if he'd merely stop to think about it, she didn't want to have to admit that there was something he needed of her, as queen, that she couldn't – yet – do. And he would be embarrassed that it hadn't occurred to him.

She stared down at the now well-battered parchment. Maybe there was someone in Edoras who could discreetly teach her, someone who would not make a big deal of the fact that the queen didn't already know how. Ealdred, perhaps? She liked the steward, appreciated his dry sense of humor and practical approach to problems. But he was so busy. Or Mylla. Did the midwife know how to read? Lisswyn rather thought she did. Being able to write down notes about patients and potions would certainly be helpful to the healers.

Well, she'd talk to Eomer about it. Hopefully, there'd be time on the trip to Helm's Deep. And maybe by the time they left, she'd have figured out a way to approach him that would result in neither of them feeling too foolish.


Dawn was just breaking two days later when Lisswyn, mounted on Dancer just outside the main gate of the city, turned to observe the others who were preparing to leave. Despite her confidence in Ealdred and Betta, she'd been surprised at how fast things had been organized for the trip.

They were nearly all mounted, along with two carts being pulled by draft horses. One of the carts carried tents and wood for fires, while the other was nearly full of extra sleeping furs and boxes of food. Nearly full, except for Brynwyn and the two older children of Ceolwyn and Eothain – Jocosa, who at seven was a year older than Brynwyn, and Hengest, almost three. Ceolwyn, her six month old son strapped to her back, was mounted and riding along next to the cart, on the opposite side from where Lisswyn was positioned. To Lisswyn's relief, Brynwyn was laughing. Her sister had been unhappy about leaving Snowball behind, and only Hilde's promise that the kitten would be cherished by her and Liffild had persuaded the little girl to make the trip without her pet.

Brecka rode on the other side of Ceolwyn, while Eowyn, Eoden and Andric were up near Eomer and Eothain at the head of the group.

She looked up at a shout, saw Eothain motioning them to begin riding out, and with a grin toward Ceolwyn, she nudged Dancer forward. As on the journey from the caves, the rest of the men – all members of the king's guard – grouped themselves in a loose circle around the carts.

It wasn't a bad day for a ride in late winter. It was cloudy, but not too cold, and there were hints that they might see the sun later. And Eomer was right – it felt good to be out of Edoras.

Even as she thought of him, he rode up next to her on Firefoot, excitement and pleasure glinting in his eyes. Before she could speak, the children in the cart caught his attention, and he watched them for a moment before turning back toward her, a faraway look in his eyes.

"One of my happiest childhood memories is of going along with my parents from Aldburg to Edoras on a day not unlike this one," he said. "It must have been about three years before my father died. I would have been almost seven, Eowyn nearly three. We alternated between riding in the cart and riding with our parents, and I remember laughing at something that we all knew to be utterly silly." The grin faded. "My father was in such good spirits that day," he said softly.

Wondering if Firefoot would allow it, Lisswyn nudged Dancer a bit closer to the warhorse, and held out her hand, wanting to acknowledge the memory in some physical way. He smiled again, and reaching out, grasped her hand, squeezed.

"It turned out to be an even better day than I'd imagined, as there was a young colt waiting for me at Edoras. I had a pony, of course, but the colt was to be my first horse. My father figured that by the time he was old enough to ride, I'd be large enough to handle him."

"I rode him for fifteen years," he finished, "and then he lived for another four years in contented retirement at Aldburg."

It was clear from the smile that the memory brought him no pain. Grateful that he had some good memories of the time before his parents had died, she squeezed his hand again, then let go, figuring it would be safest to put at least a little distance between the two horses before Firefoot got edgy.

"Eomer King!" Brynwyn called from the cart.

Eomer looked over at her, and, as always, the love and affection visible in his eyes for her sister caused Lisswyn's own heart to stumble a bit. "Yes?"

"Can I ride with you sometime? Please?"

Amused, he flashed Lisswyn a grin before calling back, "Of course." He nudged Firefoot over to the cart and held his hand out, and Brynwyn, obviously delighted that he'd responded to her request so quickly, took it and scrambled up the side of the cart so he could lift her onto the horse in front of him. Guiding Firefoot through the other travelers, he headed toward some open space to the side of the group, obviously intending to take her for one of the wild gallops that all three of them – man, child, and horse – loved so much.

Lisswyn smiled as she watched them go. Part of the great miracle of his love for her was his obvious love for Brynwyn – enough that she'd had to intervene occasionally to make sure he didn't spoil her sister by agreeing with her every request as soon as she made it.

As they rode out of her direct line of sight, her thoughts turned to other things, and Lisswyn's smile faded. She still hadn't figured out how to broach the subject of reading with him. She wasn't even certain why it was so hard to contemplate doing so. Perhaps because nearly everything else that had been required of her as queen she'd been able to figure out on her own, by watching those around her, or simply by asking a few brief questions. But reading was different. And what about writing? She frowned. Did you have to learn that separately, or did learning to read mean you automatically knew how to write?

"What is it?" Ceolwyn spoke from beside her, and startled, Lisswyn looked up, realized the other woman had moved around the cart, was riding next to her.

"What do you mean?"

"You were smiling when the King rode off with Brynwyn, then your face fell, as if something was troubling you."

And wasn't that one of the hardest things about being queen? Knowing that you were always under surveillance, even when you didn't realize it? But she managed a smile for the woman who'd become such a close friend and vital part of her life.

Then the smiled faded again, and she looked thoughtfully at the other woman. "You can read and write, can't you?" she finally said slowly.

The confusion in Ceolwyn's eyes was quickly replaced by compassion, and she nodded. "Yes – though I didn't learn until after Eothain and I were married."

"Who taught you? Was it very difficult to learn?"

Ceolwyn frowned. "Yes and no. We started out with Eothain teaching me, and it didn't work very well. He enjoys reading and is really a very good teacher, but I wanted so badly to please him that it became a source of stress and unhappiness for both of us. Eventually, I asked Mylla to help me and it went more smoothly after that. As to the skills themselves…I found writing more enjoyable than reading. I liked drawing as a child – even just using a stick in the mud – and writing felt similar to me. I found writing the letters to make words to be very satisfying."

Lisswyn didn't respond immediately, thinking through what Ceolwyn had said. At least learning to read as an adult was possible. And it answered the question as to whether Mylla would be able – and presumably willing – to teach her.

But if she were going to ask Mylla to teach her, it would mean waiting until they'd returned to Edoras. Even as the thought occurred to her, she realized why she'd been delaying discussing it with Eomer. She didn't want to have to confess it as a problem to be solved so much as one she'd figured out the solution to on her own. Telling him she was learning to read and write didn't seem as embarrassing, somehow, as simply admitting she couldn't.

"Perhaps Eothain could help you," Ceolwyn said quietly. At Lisswyn's look, she continued, "he's really a very good teacher. He's started teaching Jocosa her letters, and is being very patient with her. It was just me that he couldn't teach, I think, although we might have more success now than when we were first married. I could ask him if he'd be willing to teach you."

Lisswyn nodded. "Yes, please. Thank you, Ceolwyn." And maybe, if Eothain was truly willing to help her, she could at least learn the basics before having to admit to Eomer that she didn't already know how.


A/N: I thought I remembered reading a story here several years ago with a similar (or the same?) title as what I've given this one, though as I remember it, the roles were reversed (it was an Eomer/Lothiriel story). When I went to verify that, though, I was unable to find it. Even in the publishing world, titles are frequently re-used, but I would have liked to be able to at least acknowledge the author who previously used this title. My apologies in that respect! I tried to come up with a completely unique title for this, but 'E is for Eomer' is perfect in a number of ways (as you will see) and I finally gave up.

A/N2: There are four chapters in total for this, already written, which will be posted over the next few days.