Hey guys! So, I was beta-ing a story about Lothiriel/Eomer (I'll stand in the rain, by Ardnexia, it's very good, I would go check it out), and it reminded me of the Lothiriel/Eomer oneshot I had drafted out some time ago, hidden in the depths of my writer's notebook.

:)

Hope you enjoy!

Lothiriel shifted uncomfortably in her seat, wondering what had ever compelled her to accompany her father to Rohan. She had been bored to death with Dol Amroth, she had been ready for a dash of adventure.

But this was not what she had in mind.

Lothiriel wrinkled her nose at the smell of horses that so constantly wafted around her. She shook her head at the ridiculous drinking games.

Everyone was so loud here, she noticed. Everything was bigger here, more pronounced.

Lothiriel wasn't sure she liked it.

She was small, quiet, rather judgmental at times.

This was not the place for her at all.

Melting into the shadowed wall behind her, Lothiriel began to quietly observe the men and women around her, and somehow, her eyes made their way to the King. His long golden hair cascaded down his shoulders in unruly waves. His wild, bright eyes sparkled with merriment as he downed another mug of ale. She didn't even see his fine robes though, for her eyes flew immediately down to his boots. They went up just below his knees and were the finest boots Lothiriel had ever seen. Made of sturdy materiel, showcasing beautiful seams, looking as is they could last a man his entire life. She noticed a thick fur lining peeking out of the top: they certainly looked warm.

Every day after that, whenever Lothiriel happened to see the King, her eyes went straight to his feet, and she marveled at his boots.

And one day, he spoke to her.

"Greetings, lady."

Lothiriel nodded her head politely.

"Greetings, King."

"You are...Lothiriel? Are you not?"

"Yes. And I believe you are called Eomer?"

The King of Rohan nodded.

"How are you liking Rohan, my lady?"

"It is hard to say, Rohan is certainly...different."

Eomer laughed loudly, making Lothiriel jump.

"Yes, us Rohirrim are cut from a different cloth. Do you drink much beer?"

"Excuse me? I am a lady." Lothiriel snorted, glaring at the tall golden-haired man from under her eyebrows.

"I was jesting, my lady. It was a jest."

Lothiriel was very annoyed. Bad grammar, and his habit of jesting were putting her over the edge.

"Please excuse me, King Eomer, I have business to attend to." Lothiriel coughed, a slight splash of snobbishness entering her voice as she stalked off.

Eomer smiled. He thought he rather liked Lothiriel, for all of her oddities.

:::::::::::::

Around a week later, Lothiriel met Eomer in a hallway, as she was searching for a library, and starting to suspect that there was none.

Uncultured Rohirrims.

The first thing Lothiriel noticed as she nearly walked into the King were his boots.

They were gone.

In their place was a pair of shabby, poor boots, full of holes and patches.

"What happened to your boots?" Lothiriel blurted with surprise before she could stop herself, wondering what tragic end the poor things had suffered.

Eomer blushed awkwardly. He had hoped nobody would notice.

"Well, you see...I gave them...to my messenger. He is very poor, and it is cold, and he must ride so far, I just thought...he needs them more than I do. I hope you don't mind."

Lothiriel smiled. Maybe there was more to this man than jests, and drinking, and horses, and the occasional bought of bad grammar.

Maybe he was someone she wanted to get to know better.

"You know what this palace needs?"

"What?"

"A library."

Eomer laughed. This friendship was certainly going to be interesting, especially when Lothiriel found out that Eomer was nearly illiterate, as were most of his people.

~fin~

What did y'all think? Please leave a review and let me know!

Thanks!

~Thurin