NOTE: IF YOU READ THIS STORY BEFORE 9/7/07, THIS IS THE NEW REVISED VERSION I SAID I WAS WORKING ON.

A/N: Okay, a couple of things you should know. After writing the very different Eomer that I did in "Rage", I got a notion for doing an extreme variation on my usual Lothiriel also. Initially, it looked like it would be rather humorous, and there are parts that are, but it turned more serious than anticipated (yes, tissue alert, for some of the chapters!). This is largely Lothiriel's story and her 'journey', so even though it will eventually have her with Eomer as per Tolkien's version of things, it takes a while getting there. You'll just have to be patient for the romance (it's not the bulk of the story); this is the natural progression of the story.

Sorry about the uneven length of chapters, but that was the best I could do in breaking at reasonable points within the story. There's nothing less than 4 pages, but two are about 7 pages.

Journey

Chapter 1

(May, 3019 III, Minas Tirith)

"What about Eomer and Lothiriel?" Faramir suggested, taking a sip of wine and trying to conceal a grin.

Amrothos gave a snort. "Now that would be an interesting match, to say the least! I cannot picture it though."

"Why not?" Eowyn asked bluntly. "Is there something wrong with your sister?"

"Eowyn," Eomer said warningly, not wanting to offend the men of Dol Amroth. They were unused to Rohirric candor.

"What? I meant no offense. But there is little question that women find you attractive, brother. Surely they are not suggesting she would not also."

Eomer scowled. "Ignore my sister. She exaggerates," he told the others, embarrassed at being the focal point of this conversation. What had begun as a friendly get-together of soon-to-be-relations, had turned into an opportunity to speculate on possible marital pairings now that the War was ended. Erchirion was safe as he already had a lady in mind, only waiting for their betrothal if he survived battle. While Amrothos had been targeted briefly, his reputation for flirtatious encounters, without serious motive, did not inspire the belief that he was yet ready to pursue matrimony. But Eomer…Eomer would soon be officially named King of Rohan, and that seemed to make him the most in want of a wife, whatever he might have to say on the matter.

Erchirion chuckled. "I think not, Eomer! Remember, we have seen how the ladies of Minas Tirith eye you appreciatively! You could have your pick of the lot, without a doubt. However, I must agree with Amrothos. I cannot see you with Lothiriel. She would…not suit you, my friend."

Eowyn's eyes narrowed. "What exactly does that mean? Are you saying Eomer would not find her agreeable, or the reverse?"

Faramir could tell this discussion might get heated if it continued and, since he had started it, he hastened to explain, "It is nothing against Eomer, I assure you, my lady, nor even against my worthy cousin. But Lothiriel is the only daughter in a family of men, and raised without a mother's tempering hand. She has rich tastes, and is very prim and proper, not to mention rather cosseted. I do not think she would find someone so straightforward and 'soldierly' as your brother to be to her taste. She goes more for the…softer noblemen of the realm. And likely Eomer would find her too shallow and weak for her to appeal to him. They are just…different. That is all."

Eowyn seemed appeased by the explanation, and Eomer merely looked relieved that the conversation might come to an end, at least with regards to him. True, he would marry one day; he wanted to, and now that he was king it was virtually imperative, but he had never cared much for matchmaking. The description of the young lady had not particularly excited his anticipation for meeting her, but then he had found few noblewomen, especially in Gondor, to be what he envisioned in a wife. Some of them were beautiful to be sure, and most were educated, but they had little substance. He could not see them withstanding a harsh winter in the north, or lending a hand in sewing, tending the sick or personally rearing their children. Gondorians tended to be a soft lot, enjoying their comforts above all else. They had servants raise their children while they sat around doing little of consequence. His wife would work, and work hard, standing at his side as queen. The running of Meduseld was no simple matter, and she would be responsible for that, along with a great deal more. No, he had best seek a wife in his homeland. There was surely someone there who would suit.

xxxxx (August, 3019 III, Edoras)

Lothiriel slowly opened her eyes, wondering what was out of place. Then she realized there was no sound of gulls crying on the morning air to awaken her. She had missed that, for the entire journey, actually, but here at Meduseld it seemed even more pronounced. On the road, there had always been camp sounds, so it had almost seemed as though the gulls were merely muffled by other noises, but this silence was much deeper, and rather disconcerting.

Sitting up, she yawned as she reached for her robe. Moving to the window, she drew back the curtains and stared out at the bright sunlit plain below her and the mountains that fringed it. For a moment, she stood silently, not really thinking of anything in particular, and not fully awake. Then it dawned on her how high the sun was in the sky. It must be very late in the morning; why had no one wakened her?

Before she could turn from the window, there was a knock at the door and the same nervous girl from the day before entered when summoned. Bobbing a curtsy, the girl stammered, "M-my lady…would you like me to...to f-fetch you some breakfast?"

Lothiriel nodded. "Toast and tea would be lovely, with a bit of honey. But draw me a bath before you go."

The girl stared wide-eyed and fearful at her, her mouth working but no words coming out. "Is something the matter?" Lothiriel asked pointedly and the girl looked even more frightened.

"I…I will fetch Lady Eowyn!" she squeaked, and then bolted out the door before Lothiriel could question why it was necessary to bother Eowyn in order to get a bath and food at this place.

Lothiriel paced the small chamber in annoyance as she waited for the servant to return. Why had she let her father convince her not to bring her own maid? Servants of Dol Amroth would not have had such difficulty complying with a simple request of a guest! But her father had insisted that housing would be tight at Edoras for the funeral, with all the guests attending, and servants would just add to the burden.

A knock at the door, this one firmer than the servant's had been, pulled Lothiriel from her thoughts. "Come in," she called impatiently. Perhaps Eowyn could sort this out quickly so she could get on with her day.

As she had expected it was Eowyn, though she could not quite make out the woman's expression. It seemed a cross between annoyance and stiff politeness. Before Lothiriel could speak, to plead her case in needing a more capable servant, Eowyn firmly addressed her. "Lothiriel, Eanswith has told me you are requesting a bath."

An elegant eyebrow rose. Why should such a thing draw so much attention? "Yes. Is there a problem with my taking a bath? It is part of my daily routine. I do not leave my room of a morning until I am properly washed." Without realizing it, Lothiriel's tone had become condescending as she explained the situation, as if to a small child.

Eowyn's expression tightened more. "That is all very well in Gondor, or even in Dol Amroth, but we do not have the facilities here that you enjoy. Any water used in a bath must be heated over fires, and carried to the person's room to fill the wash tub. It is a slow and laborious process, not to mention that it takes a great deal of wood to heat the fires – a resource which is sadly in short supply in Rohan of late. The best we may offer you is a bath no more than once a week. You were able to wash last night after your travel, but it is not possible to draw a bath for you daily," Eowyn firmly stated, her eyes daring Lothiriel to challenge her.

Only just barely did Lothiriel keep her jaw from dropping. What sort of barbaric place was this! No hot bath of a morning? Surely they could not be…but, no, Eowyn was quite serious.

Mustering every bit of dignity she possessed, Lothiriel carefully responded, "Forgive me. I did not understand the circumstances. I will make do with some wash water in a basin, if that is not too much trouble."

Turning to Eanswith, who was essentially hiding outside the door, Eowyn instructed, "Bring Lady Lothiriel some hot wash water and a drying cloth, and see to her breakfast." The girl nodded and bolted away down the hall.

"Is…is it usual for people of Meduseld to rise so late in the morning?" Lothiriel asked, curious that she had not been awakened.

Eowyn bit back a grin. Truth was, she had let Lothiriel sleep-in, just to avoid having to spend any more time with her than necessary, but of course she could not say so. "I assumed you would be weary after the long ride from Minas Tirith. I thought you would want to catch up on your rest now that you had a bed available to you."

A bed? Was that what they called that thing? Lothiriel wasn't sure it was much better than sleeping with furs on the ground, but she smiled in response. "Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Lady Eowyn. It is most appreciated." Turning away before her features belied her words, she asked, "What is on the schedule for today? I should like to dress appropriately."

Eowyn raised an eyebrow in surprise, but informed the girl, "There is nothing special you need concern yourself with. A plain day dress will suit, and a sturdy pair of boots in case you wish to walk about the town."

Lothiriel choked down her reaction to this disinterested approach to wearing apparel. A plain day dress? She did not own such a thing! Why on earth would nobility require anything of that nature? Schooling her expression, she turned, and apologetically said, "I will see what I can find in my wardrobe. I am not sure my usual dresses are quite what you describe."

Eowyn gave a curt nod of the head. "Then I will see you later in the Golden Hall. Eanswith knows where to find me if you have any further questions."

She hastily exited the room before she said more than was wise. Eowyn would much have preferred that Imrahil leave his spoiled, pampered daughter at home! She was not looking forward to dealing with the girl's airs for the duration of their visit. It was clear Eomer intended to be no help in the matter. Even without the discussion they'd had with Lothiriel's brothers and cousin about her qualities, once Eomer had clapped eyes on the girl and seen for himself the sort of person she was, he had quickly begun avoiding her at every opportunity. As the lady of Meduseld, at least until her marriage, it fell to Eowyn to deal with this persnickety creature until they could pack her off home. It was a very great pity she was not more like the rest of her family, whom Eowyn and Eomer both liked immensely.

xx

To Eowyn's chagrin, her talk with Lothiriel had not entirely impressed on the girl how different Edoras was from Minas Tirith or her own homeland. The moment she turned up in the hall, more than an hour later – and Eowyn could not imagine why it would take anyone so long to dress and eat a little food – she began looking to be entertained. Eowyn truly did not have time to deal with her, considering all she needed to do in preparation for Theoden's memorial service and seeing to their other guests, so she drafted the wives of Gamling and Elfhelm to show the woman about town, and get rid of her for a time.

If Eowyn thought that would be a good solution, she was mistaken. They were gone less than two hours, and the expressions on her kinswomen's faces spoke volumes about what they had endured. Once Lothiriel retired to her room "to rest" after her exertions, the two readily confided to Eowyn what had happened. Apparently the young lady had expected numerous shops filled with rich clothing and fine jewels for her to spend hours perusing, and leisurely making new purchases. Instead, she had found shops containing items of a more practical nature – day dresses, household necessities and the like. While there was some jewelry to be had, along with a few pieces of finery for the nobility to use on more formal occasions, the selection had clearly been wanting in the young woman's eyes, and she quickly lost interest in seeing more of the town. It was evident this was going to be a long and tedious sojourn with the lady from Dol Amroth!

xx

A dance was scheduled for that evening, a simple enough way to entertain the guests without a great deal of effort. Lothiriel had remained in her room, preferring to read since there seemed little of interest around this place to occupy her otherwise.

She still would very much have liked a leisurely bath in grooming for the festivities of the evening, but Eowyn had made it clear that was not an option. Even so, she spent considerable time with her washing and preparation, and doused herself well with her stock of pleasant-smelling potions. She might be forced to endure these primitive conditions, but she did not intend to lower herself to that standard any more than was absolutely necessary. Drawing her finest gown from the wardrobe, she had Eanswith assist her in dressing, and then settled on the bench in front of the looking glass.

"Would you like me to braid your hair for you, my lady?" Eanswith inquired timidly, thoroughly intimidated by this fine lady sitting before her.

Eyeing her reflection with a practiced gaze, Lothiriel instructed, "No, I shall wear my hair up tonight, Eanswith. Give me something elegant, but soft." A braid – certainly not! She would never dream of wearing such a common style!

Eanswith shivered with fear, staring at her head in alarm. At length, she stammered, "I…I do not know how to do that, my lady!" Glancing at the servant's reflection in the looking glass, Lothiriel saw she was on the verge of tears.

"Oh, very well! I suppose I can leave it loose about my shoulders. I hope it will not be too warm in the hall," Lothiriel relented, though making no effort to conceal her displeasure. Seeing Eanswith was still struggling not to weep, she became more annoyed and decided to remove the girl from her presence. "That is all. I will manage from here. You may go."

The servant needed no further encouragement and virtually bolted from the room. Never again! Lothiriel vowed to herself. Never again would she allow her father to drag her to a backwater place such as this without even the essentials of life to be had.

xx

The next few days were just as Eowyn feared, and there did not seem to be anything Lothiriel found appealing about Edoras. She plainly thought she ought to be entertained in sumptuous fashion, despite repeated references to the deprivations that Rohan was suffering as a result of the War. Even when there were activities planned for the funeral guests, she tended to eye them with an air of disdain. At first the men of Edoras' nobility had been eager to squire the young lady on the dance floor, for she was most attractive, but her haughty behavior and superior attitude soon put them off, and more often than not Lothiriel found herself on the sidelines watching others. Eowyn had tried pressing Eomer to dance with her, at least occasionally, to relieve the girl's boredom and keep her amused, but he was clearly no more desirous than the other men to be around her, regardless of any sense of obligation he might be feeling. At best, he would suffer it only once a night and then considered his duty discharged. The girl's only hope was to dance with her family members.

At least for the funeral service, Lothiriel managed to behave in a more seemly manner, and Eowyn was far too distracted by her own emotions to give the girl much thought. Added to that was the joy of Eowyn's trothplighting to Faramir afterwards, and in her bliss she put Lothiriel entirely out of her mind. Somewhat to her chagrin, however, she learned that Eomer had invited Imrahil and his family to tarry longer than most of the funeral guests. It was not that Eomer particularly wished one member of the family to remain, but he was enjoying the company of Imrahil and his sons, and the older Prince was proving a valuable resource to Eomer in setting affairs in order in Rohan. Reluctantly, Eowyn accepted that she would have to suffer Lady Lothiriel's presence a while longer.

xxxxx

Eomer was not in the best of moods. He would much have preferred making this trip to Aldburg without Lady Lothiriel along, but she had insisted on coming. He had pointed out to her that he merely needed to conduct some business, and they would not be there long, but she seemed to think it might be more exciting than Edoras. As it was, she barely concealed her boredom with the way of life in Rohan. The shops were a great disappointment, both in quality and content, there were not enough of the activities in which she liked to engage, and she clearly found the company wanting. Eowyn was at her wit's end trying to keep the young lady entertained, and Eomer was just glad the task did not fall to him – usually. Eowyn had cleverly managed to dodge journeying with them to Aldburg, leaving him to contend with Lothiriel on his own. Not unexpectedly, she had found Aldburg no more to her taste than Edoras was, and she did not hesitate to make her dissatisfaction known.

While Eomer had the greatest respect for her father and brothers, the lady was…trying. She was exactly as Faramir had described her to them, though he had half believed she would not be quite so bad as indicated. Whereas Imrahil and his sons, though nobles of the highest class, did not object to hard work or dirt on their hands or clothes, Lothiriel avoided even the appearance of untidiness. She would do well to follow her family's example in such things and he would think far better of her. In his opinion, she was little use as anything more than an ornament on some nobleman's arm!

The sky which had been darkening for almost an hour, matching his frame of mind perfectly, now grew appreciably worse, and he knew the signs. So did Eothain, who rode up alongside him just then. "Should we turn back?" his captain asked.

Eomer sighed. They were about equal distance from both Aldburg and Edoras. "No, we might as well press on. There is nothing to be gained by returning." Indeed, he could think of much to be avoided about returning. At least in Edoras, he could hand Lothiriel back over to her family and his sister. If they went to Aldburg to wait out the weather, he would be forced to deal with her.

The skies opened up just then, and the men hunkered into their cloaks, trying to stay as dry and comfortable as they could, though they knew they would be soaked in short order. After another hour, they were forced to a stop by the wind, the rain and the mud. It had rained off and on for two days prior to this, so the roadbed was already muddy, but this downpour overtaxed its ability to recover, and it had become a virtual swamp.

Several men were down from their horses examining the carriage wheels, thickly coated with heavy mud, and Eomer rode back to join them. Noticing his approach, one looked up and shook his head meaningfully at the king. The carriage was not going any further in this muck.

"What is nearby?" Eomer asked, somewhat rhetorically as he was already mentally considering their options himself, as familiar with this land as any of the others.

"There is a sizeable cave not too distant. We could make it there on horseback," Eothain observed.

That thought had already occurred to Eomer, also, as likely their best option, and he nodded. With another sigh, he nudged Firefoot closer to the carriage and drew back the window covering. A small shriek came from within. "Do not open that! It is already damp enough in here!" Lothiriel instructed, but he ignored her objections.

"It will get even damper, my lady. This storm is not going to ease any time soon. We must seek shelter elsewhere."

She apparently hadn't quite grasped his meaning. "I thought you said there were no inns along the road," she replied petulantly.

"There are not, but there is a cave fairly close. We will use that," Eomer explained, with a touch of impatience in his voice.

"A cave!" she exclaimed, but then seemed to realize she had little alternative but to do as the king decided. "Oh, very well. If we must. Drive on."

Eomer bit back a grin. He was going to take rather perverse pleasure in breaking the rest of the news to her. "We will not be driving anywhere. The carriage is mired in the mud and the horses can pull it no farther. We will have to ride."

She clearly was not pleased. "But I will be soaked!" she protested.

"Then you will join the rest of us in that state," Eomer answered pointedly.

Seeing she could not win this argument, she heaved a beleaguered sigh. "Very well, saddle a horse for me. I suppose I must ride astride as we did not bring my sidesaddle."

"We did not bring any extra saddles, my lady. You will have to ride with me on Firefoot," Eomer told her. While he was enjoying tormenting her, he was not thrilled at the prospect of putting up with her in close proximity. He had to remind himself it would not take long to reach the cave.

"Ride with you! That would be improper!" she retorted, aghast.

"Perhaps so, but it is your only choice – unless of course you wish to stay here, alone, in the carriage, while the rest of us retire to the cave." He could not help thinking that idea had a certain appeal to it.

For several moments, Lothiriel stared at him in horror, and he was just going to tell her to hurry up and choose when she spoke again. Apparently she had realized to whom she was speaking, and her innate sense of protocol demanded she stop being so rude to the King of Rohan. He might be barbaric in her eyes, but he was still a king, and good friends with both King Elessar and her own father. Swallowing hard, she answered tightly. "If you think it best, my lord."

Eomer knew she was not pleased, but he was too wet and cold to much care. "Wrap your cloak around you and cover your head, but keep your legs free. I will move in closer and lift you into the saddle so you do not need to step down into the mud."

Lothiriel's jaw tightened, but she did as he'd told her, gasping slightly when his arm snaked around her waist, and he had her snug in the saddle with him almost before she could register his movement.

The next few hours were disagreeable to all parties. The cave was reached and they settled in for the duration. Most of the men readily knew they would be here until the next day; despite their sudden arrival, such storms as this did not blow themselves out quickly. The lady in their midst made her displeasure with the accommodations known to all, though thankfully she held her tongue. Had she not, Eomer felt he would have been hard pressed to be civil to her.

The men had been able to find some shrubs that were sheltered under outcroppings of rocks, providing some dry fodder for a fire while they used the warmth to dry out damper wood for later use. Even so, the cave was chill and uncomfortable. Given a choice, the men and Lothiriel would have segregated themselves as far apart as they could but, with the single fire, that was not possible, and there was largely a tension-filled silence over the group. The men made a few murmured comments among themselves, but no one attempted conversation with the lady.

Once a meager meal had been eaten, most of the men settled down to get what rest they could, but Lothiriel remained hunched by the fire, completely miserable. Periodically, someone would approach and put more fuel on the fire, but they did not try to speak to her and she made no such effort either.

It was several hours later, and Lothiriel had barely moved. Earlier, she had gotten up and paced the chamber in agitation, both to warm up and ease her stiffened joints, but for more than an hour she had stayed close to the fire, seeking every bit of warmth it would provide. Even so, she was used to the warmer clime of the South and the chill had already seeped into her very bones, it seemed, giving rise to shivers that were becoming almost continuous.

It startled her when a cloak dropped around her shoulders, and she let out a gasp, jerking around to see who was there. Eomer's tread was so light, she had not heard him approaching. "I am sorry," Eomer told her. "I did not mean to alarm you. You looked cold."

"I…I am. Thank you," she replied, her heart still pounding.

He started to turn away, but she asked, holding out a bit of the cloak, "Is this yours? Do you not need it yourself?"

He shrugged. "I am used to the cold. I will manage without it. You need it more."

"Thank you," she said again, more softly, amazed at the kind action in the face of her behavior. She had been far from appreciative of anything he had done since they left the carriage on the road; she had not expected this. Even more puzzling was that the king himself did it rather than ordering it of one of his men. This man did not stand on ceremony, or seem to consider himself above his companions. Indeed, most of them seemed to consider him quite amiable; in her differing opinion, she was quite alone.

He was still standing there, and when she glanced up at him, just as he was starting to retreat across the cave, she caught a look of distaste on his face. "You are welcome," he murmured, with little conviction.

Before he had taken more than a few steps, she could not resist saying more. "You do not like me, do you?" she asked with quiet challenge, but a tiny hint of something else he couldn't quite identify. In Gondor she was admired by most people; why should these Rohirrim think differently?

Eomer considered his response, then said, "About as much as you like me." An evasive answer, but at least he had been honest. He did not wish to insult Imrahil's daughter, but neither could he pretend to find her agreeable, in any sense. Even her beauty, for which she was apparently rather famed, had too much of a studied look to it for his tastes. Women did not need all that paint upon their faces; the wind and sun could readily provide them with a healthy, attractive glow. Her clothing, likewise, was excessive. The material was fine to be sure, as were the jewels, but a handsome woman did not require such an overabundance of adornment. It detracted rather than added to her beauty.

"Why not?" she persisted, unwilling to let it go. She had been able to win over detractors before this; he should be no different. All she needed to know was what he found objectionable, and then persuade him why he should not think that way.

"Do you truly wish to know or is the question only idle conversation?" he queried, to the point where he wanted to tell her what he thought of her.

"You may be honest," she generously told him, fully expecting he could have little substantial quarrel with anything about her.

"You are overly pampered and spoiled, and you see nothing more than your comfortable little world. The War almost destroyed the race of Men, and yet you concern yourself with only those things that are frivolous and of no particular consequence," he told her bluntly, and waited for the outraged rebuttal he expected would come.

"Just because my life was not so touched by the War is not my fault and, besides, the War is ended now. Why must we dwell on it endlessly?" she demanded. "Is it so wrong for me to have been raised to a different way of life?" Her chin tilted defiantly.

"No," he acknowledged, giving a sigh as he sat down beside her, "but it is wrong for you to look with disdain on the way of life of others. Our way of life has made us what we are – strong and fierce, dependable and true – and that is who rode to the rescue of Gondor, to save your people so that you might continue to live your way of life. In Rohan we yet dwell on the War because it is not over for us. There is still evil in our land that must be subdued. There is still the devastation they left behind them. My people will be fortunate if they can survive the winter to enjoy any way of life."

His words were like a slap in the face. She was startled by his eloquence, not thinking him capable of such, but more than that, she was stunned by the truth in what he said. She had been bemoaning the lack of luxuries to which she was accustomed, but these people were struggling to get through each day with sufficient to their needs. And, for them, there was no end in sight. She would soon return home to an excess of comfort and convenience. What right had she to think herself better than him or his people? It was not beneath King Elessar or her father to value the Rohirrim, but she had been incredibly short-sighted and petty toward them and the problems they faced. Without her awareness, a tear trickled down her cheek as she turned away from him in embarrassment.

Eomer had noticed the tear though, and resented that it made him feel guilty. At length, he told her softly, "I am sorry. I did not intend to speak so harshly to you."

There was nothing but silence as she did not respond, nor turn to look at him. Finally, he stood and suggested gently, "Try to sleep if you can. With any luck, we can be on our way come morning." For several moments, he gazed down on her, but when she did not acknowledge him, he moved away.

It was some time, after he had settled against the cave wall himself, before she finally laid down on part of the cloaks that were around her, but instead of sleeping she stared into the flickering firelight. How had she become so absorbed with herself, and unable to see those around her with clear sight? Life was not all dancing and new dresses, as she made it out to be. He was perfectly right – many of his people had died, making her home safe. He had lost virtually every member of his family, except for his sister, and for a time he had feared her lost as well. What had she suffered? Worry over her father and brothers returning safely, which they had? The loss of a cousin she had not known all that well, and an Uncle she had little cared for? Until this moment she had never truly looked at herself, or seen herself as others might. Now that she did, she was not sure she liked what she saw any better than they did.

Her father had not taught her to be so vain and self-centered, though perhaps he had overindulged her. Her brothers were all useful members of their society, and well respected by noble and common alike. She doubted very much the same was true of the the Prince's daughter. Certainly the nobles, who were exactly like her, thought most highly of her, but what did their opinion matter? Now that she thought about it, she had even seen a look on King Elessar's face that suggested he found her behavior displeasing and unpleasant. More tears fell then as she sorrowed for what she had become, and that was how she eventually fell asleep.

Against the wall, Eomer watched her through half-closed eyes. He had not thought his words would matter to her, but now, seeing her silently weeping, he wondered if perhaps they had. Certainly he had not set out to wound her; he had only spoken the truth, but if not his words then something had definitely affected her. He sighed, closing his eyes completely, and drawing his shared portion of Eothain's cloak higher over him. On the morrow he would apologize for causing her distress. He did not like to think he had made a woman cry.

xxxxx

Less than a sennight after they returned to Edoras, it was time for Imrahil to get back to his own realm. He had been gone too long, and he felt Eomer had things well enough in hand so as not to need so much guidance as before. Reluctant farewells were said below the steps of Meduseld, and Eomer and Eowyn watched their friends making their way slowly down the hill toward the city gates.

After several minutes, Eowyn commented, "Did Lothiriel seem changed to you, brother?"

Ever since the party had come back from Aldburg, Lothiriel had been somewhat subdued, and for a time Eowyn had thought she might be coming down with an illness after being caught out in the storm. After a while, it was clear she was healthy, but she was not nearly so demanding as before, and she kept quiet the bulk of the time. Eowyn had even seen her family casting concerned eyes upon her a time or two, but the young lady gave no indication of what might be troubling her.

Eomer shrugged indifferently. "I did not particularly notice," he answered. "I am just glad to have her gone, though it means her family left also. Besides, her silence was far more pleasing than anything she said."

Even as he spoke the words, which caused Eowyn to raise an eyebrow at him, he felt a twinge of…uncertainty. The truth was, he had noticed the girl's changed demeanor after their return from Aldburg. The ride had been made largely in silence, and she had sat hunched stiffly in front of him most of the way. Despite his offered apology, she had been disinclined to converse with him. In other circumstances, he would have counted himself fortunate, but it made him uneasy that she still might be upset by his remarks. Still, he thought defensively, he had said nothing that wasn't perfectly true – and that the girl very much needed to hear from someone. She would do well to look beyond the end of her nose and see that others in the world were not so privileged as she; many did not even have the necessities of life. No, he refused to feel guilty. What he had said to her was for the best.

Turning, he went back up the steps to Meduseld. Lothiriel of Dol Amroth was just an unpleasant memory, and until the fall and Eowyn's wedding, when he would be forced to see her again, he intended to give her no more thought.

TBC