I do not own the story, the world, the characters or the languages of Tolkien's books. No money has been made with this story, yada yada yada. No copyright infringement intended.

I do not own the songs in this chapter, they are a traditional from Horsfield's Vocal Music, Alter Bridge, and Carole King.

This is my first fanfiction ever and I am not a native speaker, please, keep that in mind before grilling me.

I have done my upmost to ensure my OC has character and is not a Mary Sue. If you find you don't like my OC, please say why, and not just shout out Mary-Sue!

I know two princes loving the same woman at the same time is unlikely, but if you look at literature you will find quite a number of love triangles: Camelot, Casablanca, Anna Karenina, Doctor Zhivago, The Great Gatsby... just to name a few.
Now don't get me wrong: I'm not comparing my story to these classics. They are way better, but the theme is the same. They are love triangles. So, if you do not like those, my story is probably not the right one for you.

I follow Tolkien timeline most of the time, with some scenes explicitly taken from the Jackson movies but I also chose to alter some things for the purpose of this story, which most of you will undoubtedly discover.

This story is aimed at mature readers. There will be violence, dark themes, sex scenes and even the mention of sexual violence. I will post a warning at the top of the chapter if there is anything that may be upsetting or offensive to readers.

Thank you so much to my amazing writing buddy, the lovely Polly, and her never ending patience with me. I would not have made it this far without you! Thank you so much to the wonderful JJ for being my sounding board in the final stages of writing and answering all my silly questions!


Soulmate

"Is it possible Mr. Loveable
Is already in my life?
Right in front of me
Or maybe you're in disguise" (Natasha Bedingfield)


It is the first day of Yavannië, the first day of autumn, but the sun shines mercilessly down on the dry plains of Rohan. It is hot like the previous days, with the air upon the horizon flickering from the heat radiating off the dusty ground around the old fortress of Helm's Deep. In the deep, where no summer breeze reaches the ground, it is even hotter. The training grounds and the grappling circle are hard and dusty.

Despite the heat, nine Éorlingas stand in the middle of the circle ready to start their grappling exercise, something the shieldmaidens are expected to be physically disadvantaged compared to the men. The training however taught them to use their height and weight disadvantage to an advantage. Aldor stands to the side watching the display of fighting skills with his keen teacher's eyes.

"Alright, try to get me," Théodred dares. The crown prince stands in the middle of the grappling ground, the three shieldmaidens surrounding him as they would do in an ambush. Five Éorlingas approach the group, moving forward slowly, none of them armed.

Théodred's eyes fix on the three men in front of the group, his first captain Edgar and two of his lieutenants, Folcred and Éofor. In the corner of his eyes he notices how Merelis and Wilrun prepare to face one lieutenant each apparently to leave Edgar to him. Lisswyn he knows to cover his back where his second captain Baldhelm and a younger rider called Hulac approach. Warmth spreads in his chest; she will always have his back. And he always has hers.

At a short signal given by Edgar who leads the attack, the Éorlingas rush forward. Merelis is the first to make contact with Folcred. With a fake downward punch and a swift shift to the side he manages to step behind her, kicking the back of her legs and then pulls his right arm around her neck tightening as if to strangle her to death. Had it been a real ambush Merelis would not be able to breath and soon faint. Grabbing the man's lower arm which pulls her in a stranglehold, she slips her right leg back behind his knee then snakes her hip to the left hauling Folcred over her right shoulder going down with him and locking him to the ground with her knees placed on either side of his torso. It is a move that usually gives the smaller and lighter combatant a fair chance to defeat the opponent. But Merelis' position is not exact and a kick from Folcred's hips sends her over his head slamming her to the ground again. His left forearm twines around her throat.

After a short moment of struggling to get out of his grip to no avail, Merelis' hands clap on his arms signalling her defeat. Quickly, she leaves the grappling area now and stands by Aldor's side.

Together they watch how Folcred turns to Wilrun who is blocking punches from Éofor with her forearms working hard with her feet to hold her stand. Next to her Théodred is on the ground holding Edgar in a close guard with his legs and blocking the captain's punches with his forearms. It takes the crown prince only seconds to find a gap in Edgar's position. Quickly, he pulls his arms around the captain's neck drawing him down next to his right shoulder while pushing his hips upwards. With a gurgling sound Edgar claps on Théodred's chest signalling his defeat as well. As soon as the heir is free he jumps to his feet rushing to Wilrun's side who now has to fight off Folcred and Éofor at the same time and is about to go down into a closed hold with no way to escape.

From the side entrance to the fortress a couple of yards away Éomer watches the fight. His eyes follow Lisswyn's every move, her slender, trained figure, her neckline, her defined arms and legs, her slim midriff. Graceful like a cougar he thinks but cannot help to smirk when the other shieldmaiden, Wilrun, is defeated as well and the odds turn against Théodred and the first shieldmaiden who are clearly outnumbered by four attackers now and soon must yield.

Éomer walks over to the training ground to stand next to Merelis and Aldor.

"Merelis, you need to make sure your positioning is accurate when you try to hold your opponent down. You were too sloppy in your movements and the placing of your legs and hands. Also, don't wait for the attackers to come at you, move before they strike and bring them down," Aldor reproaches the young guard.

"I am sorry, I-"

"No apologies, practice," the captain interrupts her while Lisswyn, Théodred and the others come to gather with them.

Swiftly, Éomer bends down to pick up Lisswyn's waterskin and hands it to her. With a grateful smile the shieldmaiden takes it and places it against her lips to take five deep gulps.

"Wilrun, you did well against your two opponents. You need to make more use of your smaller body and your higher agility. You have to turn the tide in a grapple within the first three minutes. You will never be able to stand against a man longer than that. And watch out more for your left side. This is where Folcred finally got you," Aldor continues his appraisal of the grappling session.

"Lisswyn, you did fairly well, too, but you should practice on your speed a little more when pulling your opponent over your shoulder. You almost lost control when Baldhelm pressed against you. Théodred, you rely too much on Lisswyn having your back. You must make a visual confirmation that she needs no aid a little more often. Do not just assume she is doing well. Your interaction as a team was good overall," Aldor finishes his observations with a nod of approval.

"I would have thought the first shieldmaiden would easily stand against three opponents," Éomer suddenly tosses in, teasing her with a cheeky smirk.

Baffled, her eyes widen as she tries to figure out a pointed response, but her friends are quicker.

"I think I just heard a challenge there," Merelis beams.

"Oh, yes, I heard it, too," Théodred picks up on the teasing. Lisswyn glares at them with played huffiness and wipes the sweat from her forehead back into her hair.

"Teach him a lesson, tomboy," her old teacher smirks, patting her on her shoulder and Éomer's smirk grows even wider.

"Very well," Lisswyn mockingly snaps at him, "What is the prize?"

"A song."

"A song?" she raises her eyebrows in surprise.

"The winner gets to choose a song the loser has to sing tonight after supper in front of the éoreds."

"You….." Lisswyn protests, drawing out the word with indignant spite.

"I… what?" he grins at her devilishly.

"You want to make me sing for the whole crowd…"

"Just because I know how you detest singing in front of others… Should be incentive enough for you to beat me," Éomer mocks with his ever confident smirk and a cheeky sparkle in his warm brown eyes.

Ever since they became friends they have been playfully competitive with each other, daring and bringing out the best in each other. A good competition against the other whether won or lost always filled them with joy.

"You'll have him, Lisswyn," Merelis cheers.

The first shieldmaiden hands her waterskin to Aldor.

Carefully watching each other's moves, Éomer and Lisswyn walk back to the grappling ground. With a slight but sharp nod of her chin she signals her approval to start the challenge.

His attack is fast. Leaping at her, he gets a hold of her lower left arm and pulls her towards him. As she tries to hit him with her right elbow he catches her other wrist, pulls her with her back against his muscled chest, and holds her tight arms crossed in front of her chest. Unable to move her arms, she slides her left leg behind his, pulls at his knee and together they fall backwards. The impact of his back on the ground loosens his grip on her and she pulls free again, jumping into a secure stand.

The Marshal is back up on his feet as fast as the shieldmaiden. Again they circle each other like lions.

It is Éomer again who makes the next move. With half closed fists he punches at her face and her breast bone. Swinging her upper body backwards, Lisswyn can dodge the blow to her head, but not the one to her chest. The impact of the outside of his hand sends her off balance for a moment and Éomer quickly grabs her left arm with both of his hands and turns to the side trying to pull her over his back. But the hardened side of her right hand hits him on his neck just under his right ear barely missing the crucial point on his artery which would have send him to the ground immediately.

She missed the spot deliberately and Éomer ducks away, stepping behind her. He grabs her left elbow and snakes his right arm around her shoulder and chest pulling her backwards until she stumbles against his broad shoulders. But before he has her securely she hits him with her elbow into his hard stomach. The punch on his abdominals is enough to send him slightly out of balance. With a step backwards, he regains his poise, using the momentum to pull her with him and sending her over his right knee onto the ground. She catches her fall with her right hand and her left straightens out to block any punches he might send her. Quickly, she pushes herself up to kick his knee with her right foot.

Éomer stumbles backwards his face contorted in pain while Lisswyn jumps to a stand again. For a moment they glare at each other like real enemies, hearts thumping, chests pumping.

This time Lisswyn makes the first move. With her bent arms raised in front of her head and chest she kicks at his left side, but his lower arms block her attack easily. It is exactly what she anticipated. With his upper body unguarded she quickly wraps her left arm around his neck securing it with her right in a tight clutch and pulls him down and towards her. But before she can haul him over her left side and send him to the ground his hands are up again clutching her left arm. Dropping his weight he takes her with him.

Together they fall to the ground with her somersaulting away from him in an attempt to come to her feet again as quickly as possible. But Éomer is faster. He moves on top of her, holding her in a closed mount. Leaning forward, he kneels above her and tries to get a hold on her arms, thus not noticing how Lisswyn is moving her left foot placing it against his hip and snaking her hip out to the left. With an energetic spin to her right and fiercely pushing her foot against his hip she rolls him off her chest and comes to her feet again.

Éomer is up only a second later, but taken by surprise: Jumping towards him, Lisswyn kicks him in his chest and the prince stumbles backwards. Another jump, but this time he anticipates and effectively turns to his left side. His strong right arm blocks her leg and he quickly snakes his left around it and secures her ankle between his biceps and chest. Lisswyn crashes hard onto the ground, the impact emptying her lungs. She blinks, trying to clear her eyes from the tears. The moment she needs to come to her fighting senses again takes too long. Éomer seizes his opportunity and gets down on her in a mount. He grabs her lower arms with one hand each, crosses them over her head and presses his forearms against her throat.

"Do you yield, shieldmaiden?" he asks her slightly out of breath but quite confidently, his sparkling eyes playfully searching hers.

Holding his look, Lisswyn refuses to answer at first. Her mind races, trying to think of a way out of his hold. But there is none. In a real fight his arms pressing against her throat would cut off her breathing. Realizing her defeat, she nods almost unnoticeably. Éomer gets the message nonetheless.

Immediately, he eases his hold, uncrossing her arms but does not let go completely. Instead he takes a moment to behold her face as she lies there, defeated underneath him, sweating from the fight in the burning afternoon sun, coughing from the pressure he had put to her throat. She is not beautiful in the classic way, still he could relish the sight of her forever. Just as his mind has finished the thought, he comes back to his senses with a jerk.

"I'll get you an ale later to soothe your voice for my song," he coos into her ear his voice raised to a pitch of utter glee as he lets go of her wrists, carefully lifts off her body, and rises to his feet offering her his hands to pull her up with him.

Still coughing, she takes them. "Don't bother mothering me, princeling. I could have taken you out easily, you know that. I didn't miss the neck blow by accident." Her cocky smile sends a blow upon his victory.

"Ah, but you didn't," he smirks back. "You chose not to, so you owe me a song."

"I see my mistake," her face has turned into a devilish grin. "Did no good for your proud vanity." With her last words she punches him playfully in his stomach.

Éomer bends forward in mocked hurt. "Ouch."

When he looks at her again, she is still smugly smirking at him and he smirks back taken by the sight of her sweet dimples and her deep almost green eyes. To him in this moment she has the most beautiful face he has ever seen.

Turning around and brushing off the dust of her tunic, she returns to their company leaving him behind.

Still wondering what had just transpired in his head, Éomer fails to notice how the others cheer on Lisswyn, how Théodred puts his arm around her shoulders and pulls her against his chest, and the knowing look his old teacher sends him.

"It was a good fight, shieldmaiden," the crown prince tells her while he releases his hold on her shoulder.

"Thank you, my lord." Lisswyn looks at Aldor for confirmation. Her mentor simply smiles at her gently and hands her back the waterskin.

"Let's go to the kitchen and ask for a bathtub and some water to get cleaned," Lisswyn addresses the other two shieldmaidens. Together the three women make their way to the small kitchen in the old fortress, the eyes of the three men following them.

~ S ~

It takes four wood buckets of boiling water to warm the fresh water from the deep's well in the bathtub enough for the three shieldmaidens to take their turns dunking in. As Wilrun sets down the last bucket after emptying it Lisswyn notices how her companion moves her left shoulder in a backwards circle.

"What's wrong with your shoulder?"

The two women's eyes meet and Wilrun flinches slightly. "I got it dislocated a good month ago."

"How did it happen?" Lisswyn inquires motioning with her chin for Wilrun to get into the bathtub first.

Obeying her captain's order, the tallest of the three women takes off her tunic, explaining. "We were fighting off Dunlendings in the Westmarch beyond the fords of Isen who were about to raid the villages there. One of them got a good hold of my arm pulling it back until it popped," she finishes pulling down her breeches.

Lisswyn's eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. "He defeated you?"

"By the Valar, no!" Wilrun replies scornful. "Stuck my knife into his neck as an answer for that."

Quickly, the tall woman climbs into the bathtub and ducks down, cleaning her arms and legs from the dust and sweat after training.

"Sometimes your brutality scares me, Wilrun," Lisswyn replies with mirth and starts to untangle her usual three-stranded braid. "Did you see the healers afterwards?"

"Aye. They popped it back in and I got a couple of massages, too. But it still feels sore every time I use my arm too much."

With a backwards motion Wilrun slips completely under the water's surface. After a short moment her head comes back up, her hair and face wet now. With a swift motion she wipes across her face and grabs the soap bar resting on a small table nearby to wash her hair.

"Go, see them again after we are done here. Tell them it still hurts and that I send you to check on it again," Lisswyn orders her gently, taking off her boots.

"Aye," Wilrun replies rubbing the soap across her head until her hair is foamed.

Merelis appears from behind the small wooden folding screen that shields off the bathing area from the rest of the kitchen. In her right hand she carries another bucket filled with warm water. Without any word of warning she empties it over Wilrun's head.

The other shieldmaiden splutters before she snaps at the younger woman, "Damn it, Merelis. What was that for? I was not ready yet."

"I just added some warm water…," is her teasing reply but Lisswyn shaking her head stops her midsentence. The first shieldmaiden's look speaks of disapproval.

"Warn me next time, for Béma's sake," Wilrun grumbles as she gets up and out of the water.

"Merelis, you are next," Lisswyn commands, handing Wilrun a towel. Her voice sounds harder than usual. The scolded woman looks remorseful, but starts to undress nonetheless.

"You will clean up here for penitence," Lisswyn continues her reprimand.

"Aye. Sorry, Wilrun."

"You are just a devious little rascal, Merelis," the other tells her rubbing her arms and upper body dry with the towel.

"And don't you just like that in me?" Merelis questions her voice turned into a squeak as if she was indeed some small fantasy animal, all the while batting with her eyelashes as if to charm her. The three women burst out laughing at her funny display.

"Get done, Merelis," Lisswyn says still chuckling, "I want to get clean before supper as well."

The young woman quickly climbs into the bathtub and dunks underneath the water. Her eyes still closed from the dive she asks, "Do you think, Théodred is going to Edoras for the horse fair, Lisswyn?"

"I don't know. Why are you asking?"

"I hope he does and takes us along. I wish to see my family and look for some things to buy from the merchants of the south."

Shrugging her shoulders, Lisswyn answers, "If he is going, he will certainly take us with him." But she doubts he will. Neither Theodred nor any of the shieldmaidens are welcome there anymore. They probably wouldn't even make it past the gates.

Before her inner eyes Lisswyn sees Eowyn standing outside the Meduseld, staring into the distance as she'd always done. Silently, the first shieldmaiden prays to Béma that the princess is well and coping. Her stomach churns thinking of the lust she'd seen in Gríma's eyes whenever Éowyn was near… She is a shieldmaiden though, trained to deal with all sorts of dangerous situations.

"What are you looking for?" Wilrun pulls Lisswyn out of her thoughts as she joins the conversation combing her dark blond hair .

"Don't know yet. But we received our salary at midsummer's eve here at the Hornburg with no way to spend it …I just feel like buying something. Maybe some perfume."

"You are a noble lady manqué," Wilrun laughs.

"Why? Are you not spending your salaries on beautiful things for yourself?" Merelis sounds sincerely astound, her hands foaming her curly hair.

"Not as much as you do. Most of it I spend on presents for my family when I see them on Yule," Wilrun pulls up her breeches.

"What about you Lisswyn?"

The first shieldmaiden turns around, pulling her tunic over her head while Merelis leans back to clean her hair from the soap in the water

"I cannot spend much."

"Why not?" Merelis shakes her head with her hair still in the water to untangle it there.

"My father is in a great debt ever since I entered my shieldmaiden training…" '…and it was all my fault,' she finishes the sentence in her head as her breeches land on the floor with a small thud. "I use most of my salary to help him pay it off," she continues her explanation aloud.

"You do not keep it for yourself?" Merelis looks surprised as she stands up to leave the bathtub.

"Not all families are as wealthy as yours, Merelis…"

Quickly, the two women change positions and Lisswyn slips underneath the water's surface as well.

~ S ~

The great hall is filled with voices as the dining slowly comes to an end. Pushing his heavy chair back, Théodred rises, pounding with the hilt of his knife on the wooden table top. The voices fall silent.

"Éorlingas. We had a playful duel today at the training grounds and I believe it is time for the loser to pay the debt."

Loud cheers, pounds on the tables and applause fill the hall. Grinning widely, he turns slightly to his left where Lisswyn rises from her seat at the first table in front of the podium where the high table for the leading lords and commanders is placed. Blushing violently she inclines her head towards the princes, signalling her defeat and acceptance of the dept.

"I believe the whole fight erupted over a song?" Théodred asks smugly with one eyebrow raised, shifting his gaze to his cousin who is now rising as well next to him. 'This will be just like the old days at Edoras when Éomer, Lisswyn and their friends spent happy nights together in the great hall of the Meduseld,' Théodred muses.

"Which song does the first shieldmaiden owe you, Marshal of Aldburg?" he asks.

Instead of naming a song, Éomer straightens himself and then lets his strong tenor voice resonate through the great hall looking out at the crowd.

"I am the jolly prince of drinkers,
Ranting, roaring, fuddling boys!..."

Surprised by his action, Lisswyn's mouth drops open. Disbelieving, she stares at him as the first riders in the crowd start to sing along. After a short moment Lisswyn comes back to her senses and joins them.

"...Who take a delight in tossing full tankards,
Filling the ale-house with my noise.
Ten gallons at a draught
Did I pour down my throat.
But hang such silly sips as these:
I laid me all along
With my mouth unto the bung,
And I drank off a hogshead at my ease..."

At the end of the first verse almost the whole crowd has joined Éomer in his singing, two riders have even grabbed one of the serving maids each and started dancing. Knowing the men are behind him now Éomer turns slightly to catch Lisswyn's gaze again. Their eyes lock. Lifting the corners of his lips to a soft smile while singing, he desperately hopes that his message is coming across: I will never embarrass you and certainly not in front of others.

Her eyes show gratitude and puzzlement. A warm feeling spreads in his chest and for a moment Éomer loses track of the lyrics, captured by her sight. Suddenly he can feel his heart beat faster. 'What is wrong with me?' he wonders and brings himself forcefully back to singing.

"...I've heard that a fop who'd toss a full tankard
Crowned himself the prince of sots;
But hang such silly idle drunkards,
Snatch their flagons, break their pots;
My friend and I did join
For a cellar full of wine,
And locked the vintner out of door.
One morning at the tap,
There we drank it every drop,
And eagerly ranged about for more."

More and more riders have started to dance with the serving and kitchen maids. When the song is over the happy commotion threatens to end, but with a quick wave of his right hand Théodred orders a group of musicians to start playing a tune. Again the riders cheer before joining the minstrels with their out of tune singing.

"Music?" Éomers inquires turning towards his older cousin.

"I thought the men would enjoy dancing."

"They always do."

Both princes turn to overlook the jolly crowd before taking their seats again. After a pause Théodred addresses his cousin.

"What you just did was very honourable."

Éomer turns his head back to look at the older prince, and Théodred knocks his head in Lisswyn's direction before facing the great hall again.

"I could not knowingly embarrass her in front of everyone, could I?"

"She does have a beautiful singing voice."

"Aye. But she is not comfortable with all the attention turned to her."

Théodred turns his head to look at him, "She will need to get used to it." Without waiting for a reply, the heir of Rohan rises from his large chair walking over to the group of musicians.

Unable to fathom what his cousin just tried to tell him, Éomer turns back to the hall. Unthinkingly, his eyes search the crowd for her. Of course, he finds her still sitting on her seat at the table fidgeting with her dress. She has changed from the usual dark brown linen tunic she wears during the day and especially when on duty to an off-white summer dress with three quarter sleeves and a v-shaped neckline made from very fine rohirric wool. A simple dress, but it becomes her, emphasizing the red tinge to her blond hair especially in the light of hundreds of candles. She is deeply caught in conversation with the other two shieldmaidens unawares of his watching.

The minstrels start another song and by now all of the twenty serving and kitchen maids are occupied dancing. A young rider approaches the three shieldmaidens who are talking to each other with smiles on their faces.

"Lady Wilrun, may I have this dance?" the young man Merelis was talking about the night before asks. Blushing violently, Wilrun casts a look towards her friends who grin devilish at her and shyly nods her approval before walking off towards the middle of the hall to dance with her admirer.

"So it is down to the two of us," Merelis cheerfully exclaims. "Who would you like to dance with?"

"None, if possible," Lisswyn replies, starting to feel uneasy about the impending situation. Now that Wilrun is dancing with one of the riders it will only be a matter of time until another pulls his guts together and asks Merelis or herself for a dance.

Lisswyn does not generally dislike dancing, but the intimacy that always comes along with it still makes her feel uneasy, especially with men she is not friends with. In fact she only feels comfortable dancing with men of her own choosing, like Aldor, Éomer, Háma, and Edoras' chief healer Tirwald, five or six of the riders she spends most of her time with and the men in her family of course, her father, her brothers, her uncle and cousin. Withouth thinking, Lisswyn looks up to the high table to where Éomer was sitting earlier to find him watching her. As their eyes meet, they both start to smile fondly at each other.

Éomer notices the unease in the shieldmaiden's posture. She feels uncomfortable, he realizes. When they were younger and their friendship new she used to flee from the high day's feasts when the dancing started. Why exactly it bothered her remained a mystery to him. In recent years Lisswyn began to truly enjoy dancing, but only with men she is well acquainted, but now he can clearly see her wish to disappear. Sending her a reassuring smile, he rises from his chair and starts walking over to her. He will be her rescuer like so many times before on nights of dancing in the past. Keeping eye contact with Lisswyn, he swiftly makes his way around the high table when suddenly a broad body offering her a strong hand blocks their views.

"May I have this dance, Lisswyn?" Théodred's deep voice rips her back to a situation she dreads so much.

Taken by surprise, she turns her face and looks up. The crown prince gently smiles at her. They have been dancing many times in the past. She enjoys dancing with him. Not only is he a good dancer, his movements fluid and gentle, she also always enjoyed the feeling of his strong arms guiding her. Yet with so many eyes watching them…

Nonetheless Lisswyn accepts his offer with a polite "Of course, my lord." Anything else would be consindered disrespectful. Feeling self-conscious, she hesitatingly takes the offered hand and rises from the bench. Stiffly, she follows him to the middle of the great hall where benches and tables have been pushed aside to make room for a dancing area.

Éomer watches Lisswyn rise from where he has stopped mid-stride towards her. A pang of disappointment and anger rushes through him.

Had it been any other rider he would have used his higher rank as the king's nephew to intervene, claiming the dance had been promised to him earlier. But he cannot do this with his cousin who is also his elder and his commander. Swallowing down his disappointment, he watches her walk away from him on Théodred's arm. After a few steps Lisswyn turns her head very slightly to look at him again. Quickly, he puts a smile on his face trying to reassure her and she smiles back at him softly, insecurity showing in her beautiful round eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Éomer steps back to lean against a pillar in the hall to watch her dance.

It is one of the fast group dances. The dancers form a large ring that spins four steps to the left then four to the right, to the centre and back multiple times. Then they separate into dancing couples for some slower turns and spins before coming back together into the large ring.

As Théodred and Lisswyn take their first spins alone, the crown prince notices the shieldmaiden's anxiety. "It has been a while since we last danced," he says soothingly to put her at ease.

"Yes," she replies softly, her mind spinning around when they last danced together. "It was on the spring feast at Edoras, wasn't it?"

"You remember?" The smile on Théodreds face brightens. Not only has he managed to distract her from her discomfiture, her recalling their last dance also gives him hope for what he plans for the future. He can feel as well that her movements have become more fluid and her stiff posture relaxed.

"There has been no feast at the Meduseld since then…"

The rhythm of the song changes and the part where the group dances in a large ring starts again, intercepting their conversation for a short while. When the tune becomes slower again for the couples to take their spins separately, Théodred quickly picks up the topic again.

"It saddens me to hear that. There was no midsummer feast?"

"No, but surely you had one here?"

"Yes, and a couple of other spontaneous dancing nights such as this as well…. although I did not dance on them."

"Why not?"

Théodred cannot help himself and flashes her a wide grin before leaning in a little to whisper, "The person I wished to dance with has not been at hand until tonight."

Blushing heavily, Lisswyn averts her eyes and quickly looks around in the great hall to escape the crown prince's grey-blue eyes. It has become strangely meaningful again, just like the night before…

As her eyes dart about the hall they suddenly make contact with Éomer's again. For a tiny moment she can see his face hardened and his eyes seemingly pierce the person holding her, but quickly he brightens up again, sending her a smile.

"Have I left you speechless now?" Théodred pulls her attention back to himself.

"You give me too much credit, my lord."

"No, I don't. I am truly glad you are here now, Lisswyn. I missed you."

His words cause a warmth spreading in her stomach. But her mind tells her to negate there could be a deeper meaning to his words. Briskly she plays his comment down, "Certainly I am of no great importance that you should miss me, my lord?"

"You are my shieldmaiden, of course there is good reason to miss you." And with his words the music accelerates again and the dancers come back to form the wide circle. The music's tempo gets ever faster and then comes to a sudden end. Quickly, Lisswyn pulls her hands free from the two men she has been dancing in between in the circle and turns around to leave, when a strong hand grabs her by her lower arm.

"You are not running away, are you?" Théodred looks at her with warm and gentle eyes, a smile playing on his lips hiding his anxiety about her reaction.

Lisswyn swallows, trying to figure out a polite reply.

"Good, because I wish for another dance to continue our conversation," the heir tells her straight forward, his lips still smiling, but his eyes searching hers questioningly.

The musicians pick up a slow tune this time. Gently, Théodred pulls Lisswyn into his arms again and starts the slow waltzing dance. Controlling her breathing, the shieldmaiden forces herself to stay calm despite the many looks she receives now that the crown prince is dancing with her the second dance in a row.

"If you do not mind me saying so, you looked about ready to bite any who dared ask you to dance," Théodred speaks again.

Lisswyn smiles gratefully at him, "I have only been comfortable dancing with those I know well."

"Oh?"

"It is true. Like you and Éomer, or Aldor and Háma."

Holding her close to him, Théodred leans down a little and whispers discretely, "Then perhaps you should marry one of us."

Lisswyn almost trips over her own feet, but the crown prince's reflexes are quicker. Fastening his hold on her he prevents her from falling. Recovering her feet, she tries to cover her astonishment with a laugh. "Yes, perhaps I should."

Théodred looks at her waiting. "Well?"

"My lord?"

"Will you have one of us?"

Lisswyn can feel her cheeks blush and her heart pound against her ribcage. Is he being serious? Certainly he cannot be. The time for foolish jesting about a matter as serious as marriage has clearly passed some thirty seconds ago.

"I believe, Aldor and Háma are already married, my lord," she tries to bring an end to his game, but the prince is not so willing to let her slip past a response just yet.

"That brings it down to only two to choose from."

His insisting on an answer causes Lisswyn to stiffen in his arms. Théodred notices her discomfiture. Her fearful silence lets him realize that he has just pinned her to a wall and she is clearly looking for a way out. Her hesitation makes the silence between them almost unbearable. The heir feels a sting in his left chest.

Quickly recovering from the blow that also injured his pride somewhat, he leans back, producing a thundering laugh.

"Relax, Lisswyn, I was just jesting."

It is an outright lie, but his smug face covers it well.

A relieved laugh escapes Lisswyn's lips, "Of course you were, my lord."

'If only she knew.' Théodred looks at her smile and the dimples that it leaves in her cheeks. He hates having to lie to her but it was necessary and it is clearly evident he must proceed with care. 'One step after the other,' he tells himself. 'Get her father's permission for marriage first and court her modestly until then.'

Their dance has come to an end and before either of them can say anything, Éomer steps up to them presenting three large mugs of ale.

"I believe the two of you must be thirsty by now," he suggests cheerfully fighting down the sour feeling of rivalry welled up in his chest. The notion is ridiculous, he scolds himself. There is no meaning behind Théodred's actions tonight. He simply had two dances with his shieldmaiden, a gesture of friendship. Because that is what they are; friends.

"Thank you, Éomer," Théodred takes one of the offered mugs and expectantly looks at Lisswyn. Smiling, she takes another and the three touch mugs.

"To the better grappler and his worthy opponent," the crown prince toasts before they all take a gulp from the strong ale. Aldor joins the three.

"May I have the lady for a dance now?" he asks playfully and quickly takes the mug from her hands to give it to Éomer. Baffled by the captain's lack of respect, the young Marshal takes it while Théodred bursts out laughing.

"To him you are still an unruly child, I fear," the heir's sturdy hand claps on Éomer's shoulder.

As Aldor leads Lisswyn back to the dancing area, a rider steps up to Théodred and whispers something in his ear. The crown prince's face turns grave.

"Excuse me, cousin. My presence is required elsewhere." And thus he leaves Éomer by himself. Sighing the young prince walks over to his pillar to lean against it again and watch the couples dancing.

As his eyes trail the first shieldmaiden he thinks back to when he first saw Lisswyn twelve years ago.

It was at the beginning of Urimë, the week after the new riders of Rohan who had just finished their training were sworn in, when the new recruits were introduced to their older comrades at the barracks. Lisswyn was at the end of the line of twenty young Éorlingas who wished to become riders of Rohan one day. The only girl entering the training in this year. The novices had to pass all the older trainees paying them respect before they were given a bed and a locker in the large sleeping rooms that are shared by a whole class.

In the two classes above Éomer's were three shieldmaiden trainees, but there was none in his. And the ones who were in their last two years of training were full grown women displaying the physical features as such.

The girl who now stepped up to pass him and his companions was almost a child still. Flat like a woodplank, with a round face that still showed the signs of a child's higher fat amount in the lower skin layers. Her clothes clearly identified her as a commoner of the plains. Her face was not unpleasant to look at. Yet it lacked what he would have called beauty. Her nose was a little too long, her cheeks a little too round with soft dimples that showed every time she smiled shyly while inclining her head to pay her respect. She was obviously intimidated by her surroundings and the large number of young men she had to pass before her teacher, Aldor, would show her to the girl's sleeping room.

Éomer's companions to his right and left started making comments about her boyish figure and her overall sticking out as a young commoner of the Wold as soon as they caught sight of her.

"Babyface", "Toddler", "Dimwit", "Horsey face", and "Muppet" were among the less deriding.

Éomer joined them in their fun. "Country bumpkin," he called her, but deep down he knew that his behaviour was most unbecoming for the king's nephew. The wish to not lose his face in front of the others kept him on his unruly track. To his misfortune Aldor heard some of the nasty comments about Lisswyn and also noticed Éomer was among those uttering them in her back so she would hear them. Éomer learned his lesson the same evening, when the king called him to his study. Aldor, Háma and even Théodred were present to witness Éomer's chiding and to hear his punishment. He had to apologize to her the next morning, in front of the whole recruits and not only in his name but on behalf of all the others who had insulted her.

It was the most humiliating moment in his young life and the whole situation had done it for him. He hated her although she had done nothing and was just as embarrassed as he was.

He would ignore her for the rest of his life, he decided the moment his apology was said. How could he know that staying true to the promise he had made to himself would be impossible to keep?

Smiling to himself at the old memory, Éomer watches Lisswyn and Aldor conversing while dancing to a faster waltz.

"You seemed a little put out earlier when you were dancing with the prince," the old teacher tells her. "Is something wrong?"

"No. Everything is fine. He was just jesting about my marrying."

Raising his eyebrows Aldor looks at his former trainee. "Have I missed something?"

"Missed something?"

"Are you being courted?"

"No, Aldor," Lisswyn chuckles at the ridiculousness of his question.

"Don't you wish to marry one day?" the captain asks her with surprise.

"Of course I do. It's just … there is no one courting me."

"You are rather close to a couple of unmarried men. I could think of one or two who might have the wish."

Surprised by his answer, Lisswyn stares at him, "Do not make fun of me."

"I don't. Take Éomer for example. The two of you are friends since your years of training. You are so close sometimes it seems you communicate without words. Just like an old couple."

"We are not. We are just very good friends."

"Who know each other by heart…"

"Yes, sometimes very good friends do…"

"Sometimes you tease each other like newlyweds."

"Oh, stop it. I said we are very good friends."

At her reply Aldor bursts out laughing, "Methinks thou dost protest too much."

Swiftly, he spins her around and Lisswyn almost trips over her feet again.

Quickly holding on to Aldor's arm. she regains her composure as the dance continues.

~ S ~

Two grim faces await Théodred at his study's door. Erkenbrand and one of his captains, the later looking dishevelled and exhausted.

Together they enter his study and Théodred sits down behind his desk, "What is it?"

"One of my patrols returned only minutes ago," Erkenbrand informs him.

Shifting his gaze to the captain, Théodred signals him with a move of his chin to deliver his report.

"We were attacked at the fords of Isen, my lord, by a very large number of orcs. We barely stood a chance."

"What happened?"

"We lost thirty-two men," Erkenbrand tosses in.

Théodred's eyes widen in shocked surprise. "How many orcs are we talking about?"

"One hundred and fifty. We counted their carcasses as we piled them to be burned."

"Did you kill all?"

"Aye, my lord, but at a high cost. Another fifteen men are wounded."

The prince's eyes shift to his Marshal. "How many did you send out?"

"Sixty, my lord," Erkenbrand replies.

Théodred looks to the side silently swearing.

"Théodred, they bore the white hand of Isengard," the Marshal continues.

The prince's head whips back to look at him. "Saruman?" he asks incredulously. "He is our ally."

"I already told you, he might be no longer…"

"Thank you, captain," Théodred dismisses the rider turning towards him briefly before looking at Erkenbrand again with a grave expression as the captain leaves.

"We have to double the patrols to the north and west."

"Aye, my lord, and I would advise you to refrain from riding out to the east. You might not be safe."

"I see your reasoning, Erkenbrand, but I will go nonetheless."

"Aye, my lord."

With an incline of his head Théodred dismisses his second, but Erkenbrand refrains from leaving.

"Is there anything else?" the prince sounds puzzled.

"May I speak openly?"

"Of course."

"You should prepare to take over from your father sooner than you thought."

Théodred's face hardens as he clenches his jaw and his upper arm muscles tighten. "My father is still alive, Marshal, and with Béma's help he may recover."

"The king does not have to be dead for you to take over, my lord."

Outraged, Théodred looks at the Marshal of Helm's Deep, his voice hard and cold like ice. "What are you trying to tell me? That I should start an open revolt against my father?"

"I would never suggest anything like that, my lord," Erkenbrand is as calm as before. "The majority of the éohere are already following your command. All it takes is for you to act as your father's deputy in any questions concerning the Riddermark's interests."

"I see," the prince replies short-clipped.

"If you have all the nobles behind you, there will be no problems."

Théodred rubs the stubble at his chin thinking about his Marshal's suggestion. After a short moment of silence Erkenbrand continues. "And you should consider marrying soon and ensure the continuation of your line."

Surprised, the prince looks up. He hasn't thought the Marshal would bring up this topic, but it is a just point.

"I have already decided as much, Erkenbrand." A smile appears on the prince's so far grim face. "If everything goes as I plan it I will be marrying soon."

It is for Erkenbrand to be surprised now. "Have you made arrangements yet?"

The smile on Théodred's face widens, but he shakes his head slightly. "No, not yet, but I will as soon as I have her father's permission."

"May I ask who the lucky lady is?"

The smile grows into a sheepish grin. "Haven't you guessed that already?"

A smug smile spreads on Erkenbrands face. "A good choice, my lord. She will be a widely accepted queen."

"Let's go back to the great hall," Théodred says still smiling.

~ S ~

After the dance has ended, Aldor walks Lisswyn back to where Éomer is standing now. The prince notices her red cheeks and a sweaty film on her neckline. Smiling softly at her, Éomer hands her the mug of ale. Gratefully, she takes five large gulps.

"My lady, it was a pleasure," Aldor says playfully bowing in front of her and Éomer before he leaves her with the Marshal.

Éomer takes a sip from his ale as well then leans closer to whisper discretely, "I always thought Théodred and Aldor were good dancers…"

Surprised, Lisswyn takes the mug down from her lips. "They are."

"Well, then I must have hit you hard this afternoon, because I noticed you tripped twice while dancing. Do you feel dizzy?" he purrs into her ear like a pompous cat presenting a dead rat for her praise.

After all the teasing from Théodred and Aldor this does it for Lisswyn. Feeling anger bubbling up inside her, she snaps at him, "It is simply a little too hot for dancing." She then takes a last gulp from her ale and slams the mug on a table nearby. "Since we will be leaving early tomorrow morning I shall retire now. Good night, Éomer." Without waiting for a reply, she turns on her heals and rushes away.

Her sudden outburst takes him totally by surprise. His mouth agape he wonders what it was he did wrong. How could this evening start so nice and then end so awful? Watching her retreating back, his mind wanders back to his memories.

His next encounter with the "tomboy" was three weeks after his public apology. His sleep was often plagued by nightmares ever since his parents had died five years ago. During those nights he usually went outside to find peace of mind. The fresh night air and a look at the stars were always calming to him.

On this particular night however when he was already about to step down the three steps to the barrack's back entrance he noticed that the court behind the barracks – the only place the trainees were allowed to go after sleeping time had been announced – was already occupied. The tomboy was sitting there in the grass, arms wrapped around her tucked up legs, head bent backwards and looking up into the sky. Quickly, he stepped back into the entrance's shadow and watched her for a moment. Until then he had successfully ignored her. There was no way he would acknowledge her now. Silently swearing, he went back inside.

The situation repeated itself numerous times within the next weeks. Anxious about finding her on his patch of grass he had made it a habit to peek around the corner of the back door before stepping outside. Often enough he found her sitting there again and every time he chose to avoid her, spending the rest of his night lying awake in his bed staring at the ceiling.

During the winter it became better. Obviously the cold of night and the snow on the ground kept her inside. But then came this one night at the end of Viressë that somehow changed everything.

He had jolted awake from a terrible dream about his mother's death and quickly walked outside where he found her on his lawn again. But before he could turn away he heard a clear female voice, singing. The sound touched him and he halted then slowly slid down to sit leaned against the door frame where she could not see him and listened.

Her voice was beautiful and her singing reminded him of his mother who had always sung to him to lull him into sleep as a child. For a long moment he listened:

... I feel you in the wind
You guide me constantly
And I'll come home and I miss your face so
Smiling down on me
I close my eyes to see
I carry the things that remind me of you
In loving memory of
The one that was so true
You were as kind as you could be
And even though you're gone
You still mean the world to me..."

Suddenly, with Lisswyn's soft clear voice in his ears and his mind with his mother a lonely tear rolled down his right cheek. Angry at the girl who caused such a display of weakness on him, he wiped the tear away and hurried back inside.

His unnoticed nightly listening did not change his behaviour during the days. He still ignored her completely which was very easy. Since they were on different levels of training their daily schedules differed greatly. Only during meals they were at the same place, the large dining hall at the barracks, and he would always sit with his back to her.

At nights however when a nightmare ripped him from his sleep one part of him hoped to find her outside singing. The other feared it. Strangely enough he did not come upon her for many weeks and soon he found himself disappointed when she was not on his patch of grass … something seemed to be missing.

It was almost six weeks later when he met her again at night. Another bad dream had stolen his night's peace away. When he came to the back door he could already hear her sing.

"Sometimes I wonder if I'm ever gonna make it home again
It's so far and out of sight
I really need someone to talk to, and nobody else
Knows how to comfort me tonight.
Snow is cold, rain is wet,
Chills my soul right to the marrow.
I won't be happy till I see you alone again,
Till I'm home again and feeling right."

This time he did not back away. Quietly, he walked down the steps and a couple of paces towards her before he stopped.

"Is that how you feel?" he asked her softly.

Startled by the unexpected voice in her back, she silenced while her head spun around and she jumped to her feat.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to scare you."

Watching him with fearful eyes, she carefully walked in a wide circle around him and towards the barrack's door while he turned to still face her.

"Why are you not sleeping?" he now demanded, bringing all the authority he could muster into his voice.

His harsh tone made her stop in her tracks.

"I am not used to sleeping indoors," she replied hesitantly.

"Oh?"

A slight nod with her head was her only answer.

"Why not?"

"My family are horse breeders."

He waited for her to continue and when she didn't he signalled with his hand for her to elaborate.

"Most of the time in the year we follow our horses when they roam around in the Wold. We set up our summer yurts only if the weather requires it. On dry nights like this we sleep under the stars."

"I see."

Although his uncle made sure he learned more about Rohan than any of his companions he had not known this yet. He had imagined the horse breeders to have farms like the crop growers around Aldburg and Edoras. That the horse breeders were nomads was new to him.

Looking at the girl in front of him, he suddenly felt admiration for her. A life like hers was surely hard, but she had lived it. Now she was here at Edoras, far from her family and all alone facing all those rude young men who made fun of her, but she never showed whether it hurt her or not or what she felt like inside. Only he now knew…

"May I retire, my lord?" she suddenly asked him.

"Éomer. Just Éomer."

In the pale moonlight he could see her chin tighten as if she was biting down hard.

"And you are Lisswyn, I believe?" He knew, of course. How could he ever forget the name that stood for his worst humiliation?

"Aye."

It was the short answer the novices were taught in their first week. The only answer that was considered proper in front of a superior warrior besides "no".

"I liked your song," he tried to keep the conversation that was clearly one sided up. But Lisswyn would not do him the favour and join it.

"I come out here a lot, you know? At night, I mean," Éomer confesses.

"I know, I have seen you."

"You have?"

"Aye."

"Why did you never…?"

"I did not wish to disturb you. You seem to …. detest my presence."

"No," his answer was too quick and too loud, he realised the moment he had said it. Although it had been true for many weeks it was not true anymore.

"May I retire?" she asked again.

"Of course," was all he could answer and she hurried past him and back inside.

Standing there on the open, he suddenly felt sorry for his words and actions towards her…

Just like he does now. Although he still does not understand why she reacted so angrily just minutes ago when he teased her about her tripping twice while dancing. He does not have the time to dwell on his disappointment because Théodred steps up to him again.

"Where is Lisswyn?" the crown prince asks him straight away.

"She retired to her room a few minutes ago."

"One of Erkenbrand's captains has come back with his patrol. They had a grave encounter with a large band of orcs to the north," Théodred briefly gives his cousin the details of the assault. "We need to be prepared for unexpected ambushes."

"Of course."

"Let's retire as well. We leave one hour after dawn tomorrow morning."

Éomer nods in agreement and the two princes start to make their way back to their sleeping chambers.

~ S ~

Half an hour later Éomer lies in his bed and stares at the ceiling. Sleep will not come. His mind circles around his taut parting from Lisswyn earlier. Before they became friends their encounters were always like this he recalls closing his eyes.

A week after they had first spoken in the dead of night, the midsummer festivities at Edoras had started. This meant a whole week without training for the recruits. It was the night of his sixteenth birthday, the twenty-second of Nárië, the day before midsummer's day. Éomer and some of his closest companions had gone to one of the taverns in the city that was known to have a brothel upstairs. One hour of private time with a young wrench was his birthday present from his companions. He walked downstairs one hour later a man.

Another two hours later their group returned to the barracks – way too late and if one of the guards had caught them they would have been reprimanded and punished. But somehow good fortune had them return unnoticed until they reached the barrack's backdoor.

They did not see her at first because she was sitting in the shadows of the doorframe. When the six young men came upon her, Lisswyn immediately jumped to her feet and stepped to the side to let them pass.

Wigbald, one of his friends, reacted instantly, "If you say but one word about our returning too late, dimwit...," he threatened her pointing his finger at her.

Wide eyed she looked at them all and swallowed hard. Wigbald stepped closer to her and she crunched back into the wall.

"One word...," he hissed again.

"Leave her be, Wigbald," Hefric, another friend, called him back. "Our end of year trials will be in two weeks. She won't be around anymore afterwards," to emphasize his words Hefric spat in front of her feet.

Lisswyn only blinked and her gaze shifted to Éomer. When their eyes met he felt ashamed. Again he failed her. Again he did not step to her side, but doing so would have meant to lose face in front of his companions was all he could think drunk as he was. He simply kept quiet and the young men went inside.

During the days after that inglorious nightly incident Éomer tried to make eye contact with Lisswyn many times, at every meal, every time they accidentally passed each other around the barracks or training fields, but she never looked his way. He figured it was deliberate. Even though his wish to apologize grew excruciatingly, he simply found no chance to act upon it.

During the week of trial when the results were posted regularly at a wall in the barracks he checked not only his but hers as well. To his facilitation he noticed that she did fairly well. In the end she had finished her first year as the eighth best of her class.

The whole month of Cermië was without training for the lower classes. Many of the recruits travelled home. Apparently so had the little tomboy because she was not around anymore. When the next year of training started, she was back again. Both of them returned to their former routine of ignoring each other.

The Edoras horse fair went by and about a week later he found her on his patch of grass again at night. Leaning against the wooden palisade that surrounded the court she sat on the ground, her knees tucked up, her head resting on them. He started to walk up to her to finally speak his apology and congratulation to her passed exams when from a few feet away he noticed that she was crying.

He slowed his pace and carefully walked over to crouch down in front of her.

"Why are you crying, Lisswyn?" he whispered.

A sharp intake of breath showed that he had startled her. Quickly, she raised her head, wiped away the tears and looked at him. In the pale moonlight he could see that her right cheek was bruised and swollen. She had a fresh cut in her upper lip and dark marks around her throat.

"Why don't you leave me alone, prince?" she hissed at him.

"What happened?" he gasped.

"Nothing, I was sparring too roughly. Just leave me alone," she hissed again.

"Sparring is not meant to hurt you like this. Who did this to you?"

"I had a disagreement with some other horse breeder's son during the horse fair," she told him briskly.

"Your temper is really bad," he smirked at her. "I hope you gave him worse?"

She simply shrugged so he just said what he had meant to say.

"I know I treated you very badly in the past and I am sorry for that. I came to apologize. Truly. And to congratulate you on your passed trials."

Silence was her only answer and so the prince continued to speak.

"Usually when I come out here at night I feel miserable, because of those dreams I keep having about my mother's death. The memories haunt me."

"Your mother died?"

"Yes, shortly after my father was killed almost six years ago. She succumbed to grief I believe."

"I am sorry to hear that."

First he nodded to her condoling, but then he looked up to meet her eyes again and shook his head. "You do not need to be. It is long in the past and you are the one who is miserable. What is bearing you down?"

"Nothing. Just stupid homesickness," she replied short clipped before rising to her feet.

She had already started to walk away, when he jumped up and grabbed her left wrist with his left hand.

"Wait."

Yelping, she forcefully jolted her hand free and made to run away.

"Please, Lisswyn."

Hearing his pleading tone, she hesitated, took a step backwards to gain room and waited for him to continue.

"Homesickness is not stupid."

She blinked at him.

"If you ever feel like you need someone to talk, I will be here."

Another blink.

"I give you my word as a man of honour that I won't tell anybody."

"I accept you apology, my lord. Good night."

Then she swiftly turned around and rushed back inside.

Her reaction surprised him and as he watched her fleeing away he realised that he had a soft spot for the tomboy. All he could do was mumble to himself.

"Éomer. Just Éomer."