I do not own nor profit from Lord of the Rings, or any of JRR Tolkeins works.

A/N: I had someone suggest a second chapter, and I may possibly make a 3rd, since I've left it open for a 3rd I guess. I know it took a while to put out, but thank you for reading, and thank you for reviewing. Enjoy!


Eomer was in love. There was no doubt about that. This unorthodox princess that made her way into his life was possibly just what he needed. She had been there for three months already, waiting ever diligently for him to return from his brief campaigns. Every time he returned home, he could count on her to be waiting at the gates for him. She was, every time, a sight to behold. Always smiling, always comforting. That particular day, the rain came down in fat drops. It was difficult to see far ahead, but he knew she would be there. In the meantime, Eowyn would teach her more of Rohir culture.

Aravis was soaked to the bone, her cloak doing nothing against the rain as she waited to see her Eomer atop Firefoot riding through the gates. As he always did, he stopped, and scooped her onto his horse, continuing on to the stable where Firefoot stayed. Together they tended to the stallion, as he taught her a little more every time about the care of horses. After, as every time, they would make their way back to his chamber. They both bathed this time, and curled into his bed. She listened as he regaled her with the events of his latest success.

She lay on her stomach, watching him speak, always excited to hear of his bravery and courageous actions. He had his hands behind his head, comfortable and warm under the blankets. When his tale came to a close, she sighed. "My brother would love you." She finally smiled. "He respects men who fight so bravely, and lead so fiercely." She tilted her head, running her fingers through her locks.

"Does he respect men who defile his sisters as well?" He gave a seductive look.

"Oh, Lord Eomer, surely you would not tell him that you have sullied his only sister without having married her, would you?" She rolled over onto her side, propping up on her elbow, her head on her hand.

"First you think me brave, now you think me foolish." He feigned hurt, causing her to giggle.

"I simply wouldn't want to cause a rift with our lands. I sent word to him that I was staying here in Rohan. I have not yet heard back though. I am sure he is so busy with the assaults. Of course, if I am lucky, the messenger was not intercepted and killed." She sighed. The roads those days were dangerous for all who walked upon them. At any time, they could run across a stray orc pack, or succumb to the elements, or hunger.

"Have you told him of us?" Eomer reached over, pulling her into him, enjoying the feel of her warm skin against his. Something he missed every night out in the fields.

"I spoke of you, yes. That I was interested in the Marshall Eomer, Kings nephew." She sighed, taking an armful of this man who made her feel like a true woman. "That I am courting you, and hope that he may one day meet you. I spoke that you are a good and kind man." She smiled. "That you are a fierce soldier, but an intelligent leader. Things that my brother would wish to hear."

"Well let us hope you kept the expectations attainable." He chuckled. "I would hate for him to be sorely disappointed." He rubbed her back gently. It was moments like this that he enjoyed the most. War and battle were far beyond the walls. Even Wormtongue could not dampen his happiness now, though he was unaware this would soon change.


Aravis mounted a steed, as Eomer made sure her stirrups were situated properly before mounting Firefoot, his own noble horse. They trotted out of the wooden gate of the city and out into the plains. They passed by farms and small clusters of homes that appeared around the city, as he told her of their culture and society. He enjoyed spending his time with her, showing her about, teaching her. She was a beauty he had never seen, and he enjoyed his conversations with her, as she made him laugh and smile, keeping his heart light.

"Don't they get scared, living outside of the gates?" She asked, guiding her horse beside his.

"If they do, they do not show it. Of course, there is not enough land within the gates to provide food for all. Our soldiers are on constant guard of these outlands, as we call them." He glanced at her. She was in a pale green tunic with dark brown leggings for riding. Her leather riding boots he noticed were undoubtedly from Eowyns own closet. Her hair was pulled back from her face with simple braids on either side. The sun was warm on their faces as they rode towards a creek that Eomer enjoyed resting at.

Being inside the city at all times when he was home made him feel cooped up. He could only imagine how hard it was for his sister, always expected to stay within the gates. Eomer thought about how one day, they would not be able to contain the spirit within Eowyn, and she would one day lash back in a grand way.

"Tell me more of Grima." Aravis broke his train of thought. He snapped to attention and furrowed his brow. He hadn't brought her out to talk of that despicable creature. He wanted to know her better, and to make a request or two of her.

"He is one of our own. He is Rohirrim." He started. "But sometimes I am not so sure. He is so very different. Small, dark, pale as you can see. Nothing like the typical Rohir." He tightened his grip on the reigns.

"Well, surely not all of your people are tan and fair haired." Aravis spoke softly.

"No, but it isn't just that. He came to Edoras seeking the king. At first, my uncle, was against Grima. He did not trust him, and he was leery of his presence. Soon that changed though. King Theoden is beginning to grow weak. It seems that every time I return, he is weaker, and speaks less to others. That King you saw when you first arrived is gone. I know he has done something to my uncle, but what, I do not know, and how to free my uncle from his evil grasp is beyond me. I'm a man of sword and spear, not magic and witchcraft." Eomer brought Firefoot to a halt as they came to the small grouping of trees, the babbling of a creek nearby.

He sat down, leaning against a shady tree, as Aravis laid out, taking in the rays. Far north, the sun wasn't as intense, and she enjoyed the feel of it against her skin. "Eomer, I believe help may come soon." She stretched.

"What makes you so sure?" He arched a brow.

"Help arrives when we least suspect it. At least that is what my father used to say." She rolled over, looking at him, picking at the grass. She missed Dale, and its people.

"Tell me of your people, for I've heard little of Bardings and of Dale." Eomer didn't want to speak more of Grima, as it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He stood up and took a couple of apples from a pouch on his grazing horse. He gave her one and laid back down with the other, looking at the shiny golden red fruit. Since she had been there, she had really only spoken of her home in passing, and he regretted now not asking her sooner of her home. How ignorant it had been of him.

"For many a year, we had little need of traveling so far, but that was back before Smaug, of course, who was quite before my own time. A tale that was ended in the time of my grandfather Bard. It was after Smaug took over Erabor that the Bardings, as my people came to be called, traveled into the south. Laketown was established, where most Bardings came to settle. Few of course went further south, into Bree, so I've heard. I'm not sure how much further others have traveled, but of course, this was over 200 years ago when Smaug attacked Erabor, so Bardings could be anywhere." She smiled at him, taking a small bite of her apple. The juice dripped down her chin, as she wiped it away.

"When my grandfather Bard killed Smaug, he was named king of Dale. Many dwarves helped to rebuild our kingdom as recompense for his slaying of the great dragon. It was also a show of good faith, that there was no ill will against those of Laketown." She sighed. "Thorin Oakenshield, king under the mountain, he passed at the battle of the Five Armies. So his successor gave a large part of Thorins gold to our people to help us rebuild Dale, and bring in the many things we would need to restore. For that, we hold traditions and honors for the dwarves every year." She took another bite of her apple.

"My father was a good king. He was fair, and kind. My mother always gave him the best of advices, and taught him, I think, to listen to the people, but still rule. Something that can be quite difficult. A lot of time was spent establishing trade among the different kingdoms. He focused especially on Gondor, though I'm not sure how much he focused on Rohan." She rolled over and smiled at him. "It would seem not much if you've barely heard of us." She giggled.

"Aye, but of course, I spent a good amount of time training as a fighter growing up, not training as a nobleman or a politician." He smirked back at her.

"That may be true. But my father wanted us to have strong allies in the event of another war, or another attack. Before he passed, many ill things began to creep towards our lands. There were more orcs attacking, darker days, everything seemed grim. When my brother took the throne, the violence only increased. He decided to send me away, to keep our line safe, he swore. Some of our best fighters would protect me."

She took another bite, savoring the treat. "I know he was hoping I would find a husband in Gondor, my intended destination. Their culture has many similarities as ours does. Our road brought us here to Rohan for supply and rest. Your uncle greeted me warmly, and then was your celebration where I met you." She smiled, taking his hand. She indeed had noticed the Kings decline, as had Eowyn who had confided in Aravis her troubles.

"Eomer, is there another place we may stay?" She looked up at him hopefully.

"There is not. Why would you wish to leave Meduseld? Is it not to your liking?" He smirked playfully. Her worried expression concerned him suddenly.

"My heart, it is nothing you should be concerned of." She tried to brave a face, but Eomer could see through her.

"Tell me, is there something wrong?" He rested a hand on her waist.

"It is Grima." She sighed, looking down towards the grass again.

"What has he done?" His voice became dark and gravelly, his grip tightening only slightly on her.

"It's, when you are gone, Eomer. I seem to see him wherever I go. It makes me uncomfortable." She muttered, embarrassed by this problem. "I mean not to cause problems, but, I do not wish to fear the shadows when you are gone."

"Has he done anything?" Eomer questioned, his anger rising.

"Eomer." She whispered, her lower lip puckered out. But he stood firm in the look he gave her, expecting an honest answer. "He just, sometimes stops me, corners me, and speaks undesirable things. On your last absence, he was spoke of how he would happily rule Dale should you not return. That he would, take care of me. The look he has when he says these things is disgusting, and pervasive." She swallowed hard, blinking back tears. "It's just, I mean, when it was you giving me those looks, I was alright, because there was equal attraction, and I wanted you. Now that I have you, I wish no others to look at me in such a way. I can't stand the thought." She wiped her tears away.

"It is alright. None will take you from me. Especially not Grima. Do not fear him, I will not let him harm you." He rolled her onto her back and kissed her cheeks. "Just remember that I love you, and I will always return for you, even be it through death, I will return to you." He kissed her lips gently, and stroked her cheek. He could not let go of his own anger however. It rolled in the pit of his stomach like a cauldron of boiling water angrily spilling over.


Aravis slept easy that night, more comfortable than ever to be in Eomers arms. He had taken her body with hunger and greed twice before letting her sleep. He, however, did not come by sleep as easily. Their earlier conversation still had his anger simmering. He listened to her rhythmic breathing, her lips slightly parted. He watched as her breasts slowly rose and fell, as her eyes would occasionally look around under their lids. How peaceful she looked, like a fallen star beside him. First Grima would haunt the steps of his sister, now of his beloved, it was not fair to Eomer. How this vile man covets what is his. Of all the Rohir women in Edoras, why those two? Of course, for station. But he would have neither if Eomer had anything to say about it.

Eomer, in his anger, thought through violence. Grima on the other hand, was always thinking through cunning, trickery and acts of subterfuge. When Eomer finally confronted Grima, he should have known the snake was two steps ahead of him. They argued, biting back and forth with their words. It was a blind comment Grima made about fathering Aravis' children himself that triggered Eomer into unsheathing his sword. Aravis and Eowyn both reached out to stay the mans hand, but the guards had reached him first.

"You, Eomer, are forthwith banished from the Kingdom of Rohan under pain of death." Grima hissed happily, showing him the parchment with the kings seal.

"No! That cannot be!" Aravis ran forward, snatching the paper from his hands, reading over it twice before looking up to Eomer, tears in her eyes. "All of the Rohirrim? But why?" She finally turned towards Grima, who, now faced with her tears and sadness, knew little of what to say.

"It is from the King." He offered weakly. She took a deep breath and nodded, turning back to Eomer.

"I will ride with you." She spoke, wiping her tears away boldly.

"No, Aravis, you must stay. I can not take you along with me, though trust me I wish you could with all of my heart." He shook his head. "May I have a moment?" He shook his arms free of the guards, and held his love close. "Whatever happens, stay strong my dear one. I will return to you. I promise I will return to you." He stepped back and removed from around his neck a round silver pendant with a depiction of horse. "The maeras will keep you safe." He kissed her gently. "Wear it always and remember me."

That was all she was left with, as Eowyn rested a hand on her shoulder, watching her brother disappear through the heavy doors of Meduseld. Aravis stood rooted in her spot, holding the pendant, tears streaming down her face, her mouth drawn back in anguish. When the heavy stamping of hooves rang through the city, she bolted. Through the door, down the stone paths and to a lookout post along the fence, watching the large battalion of the Rohirrim galloping away from Edoras. The tailed helm of Eomer led the charge, the tail flaying in the wind. She raised her hand high, holding it there until all that was left was the dust on the dusky horizon.

Every night, Aravis slept with the pendant tightly in her hand, though Eomers bed was still cold without him. She sent her prayers to the stars, hoping for a safe return for him, that she would indeed see him again soon in this life. Eowyn would sometimes sleep in the bed with her. They would stay up late, talking and crying, falling asleep feeling only slightly more comfortable that in that moment they were not so alone.

This went on for two weeks, before the stars answered her. "ARAVIS!" Eowyn burst into the room, excitedly waking her up. The princess jumped out of bed, her heart racing, adrenaline pumping. "Get dressed, hurry! Mithrandir has come!" Her eyes were wide with excitement.

"Mithrandir?" She arched a brow, not familiar with that name, as Eowyn struggled to get Aravis laced into a dress with shaking fingers.

"Gandalf! Gandalf the Grey!" She shook her head. "He has come, and there is hope." She teared up.

Both women went to the main hall, waiting for Gandalf to approach, but he was not alone. Indeed, he traveled with a man, an elf, a dwarf and two children. Later, Aravis learned they were not children, in fact they were older than she. Hobbits. For the first time in her life, she had met a Hobbit. But Eowyns prayers were answered as Gandalf, who was indeed now Gandalf the White, challenged the poison that had struck down the King. A battle of wills, of sorcery. Before their eyes, the decrepit man on the throne reverted back to the younger more youthful King that Aravis had met upon her arrival.

"My lord." Aravis bowed, as did the others in the hall. Theoden stood tall, dazed, confused, trying to grasp what had happened. Much to the relief of Eowyn and Aravis, Grima was banished, made to slink back to wherever it was he had come from. It was Aragorn who stayed the livid kings hand, who would have called for his blood.

Though Theoden was restored, there was no celebration. He had lost his son, and unwittingly banished his nephew, and now heir, from the lands. Isengard had been emptied of its forces, and they would have to flee to their stronghold of Helms Deep. The road to the Deep was long and tiring, even in the fine weather. For Aravis, atop her steed given to her by Eomer, it was a bitter ride. Would Eomer now know where they had gone to? She held his pendant closer to her chest, saddened by the thought that he may not find her after all.

They traveled over many rolling hills before coming upon the Deep. On either side were tall rocky walls of the mountains, and at the end of the narrow valley, stood the proud walls of Helms Deep.

"We will be safe here." Eowyn had been riding next to Aravis, though she hadn't noticed, lost in her own thoughts.

"Are you sure we would be?" Aravis looked nervous. She thought of the stronghold of Erabor, how nothing short of a dragon could have taken those halls. She wondered if she shouldn't leave now and make for Gondor, and Minas Tirith. She admitted she was terrified of a battle at the doorstep. Afraid of whether she would make it out of this alright. Of course another voice in her mind comforted her, that perhaps the enemy would completely bypass them, and and just go home when they saw that Edoras was empty.

"Helms Deep has saved our people in the past, and I am confident it will do so again." Eowyn smiled reassuringly. "I know you must fear for my brother. Do not fret so. He is strong, and smart, he will come to the Deep if he knows the people are in trouble. He will not abandon us to hope." She reached over and held her wrist gently. Even Eowyn had to wonder however, if he would hear the news in time.

They rode into the deep in quiet conversation, as Eowyn spoke to her more about the history of Helms Deep. The stone under the horses hooves clapped loudly as the horses moved up the ramps and into the stronghold. It was bustling chaos as everyone was trying to find a spot, and ration out their supplies.

As evening fell, they would see in the distance a large band of lights that extended far beyond what they could see. It was as if doom had already taken them all, as they all watched in horrified silence.

"Get the women and children into the caves. Get the men ready for battle." Theoden spoke to Eowyn and Aragorn. Eowyn took Aravis' arm, and led her towards the caves, gathering women along the way. Soon, they were all huddled together, for warmth and comfort in the caves. Aravis pulled a tunic tighter around her, one she took from Eomers wardrobe, and leaned against Eowyn. When the ominous drumming started in the distance, it sent a wave of fear through the women and children. The women began to pray and shiver, crying softly as they attempted to soothe their own young.

The night was full of the sounds of war. The caves themselves seemed to tremble, but Aravis tried to get what little sleep she could, dozing off and snapping awake again. All of them were exhausted, and many of them were in and out of sleep. Others were wide awake, unable to get over the war so near to them. Through the night and well into the morning they listened to the war ravaging outside. Eowyn smiled when large trumpeting broke out.

"The horn of Helm Hammerhand" She sighed, resting her head back and sighing once more. She took Aravis' hand tightly. "It should be done soon, princess." She hoped. It seemed like an eternity had passed when finally the heavy doors to the caves was opened, and daylight was shed upon the occupants.

"Victory! The Rohirrim have come! The Rohirrim have saved us!" A cry rang out, as the women clapped and rejoiced happily. Though their happiness would be short lived, the man at the entrance allowed them to celebrate in their own way before the task of identifying the staggering casualties would have to take place. The women slowly trickled out of the caves carrying their sleepy children. The metallic stench of death was heavy on the air. Aravis was among the last to exit as she passed the man, noting his bloodstained armor.

"Sir, have you seen Lord Eomer?" She asked him in hope. He pursed his lips, and sighed shaking his head. Aravis choked up, the shock hitting her. She was unable to cry. She had seen that response before when one didn't wish to say aloud that someone had passed, but was still required to provide that answer. The cool winds whipped through the valley gorge, sending her hair flying about her neck and shoulders. Bodies of the dead were piled before the walls of the deep, the ground stained red, reflecting the sunlight that beamed down in the late morning.

Aravis did her duty in silence, tending to the wounded in the halls. Her delicate hands cleaned wounds, and she used her gentlest voice to soothe those who were most distressed. She did not see Eomer among them, and sometimes, when she did not keep her mind busy, thought of him bloodied and trampled, forgotten on the battlefield among the amassing bodies of Uruks. Mentally she would scold herself for thinking such horrible things, but she was unable to stop either.

That night, she was dismissed to the royal chambers to clean up and sleep. A lukewarm bath was waiting for her as she scrubbed away any blood in the cold water of a basin, stripped down, and got into the bath. As she washed, she struggled not to choke up and cry as she had done so many times since Eomer was first banished. She wanted, more than anything right now, to be alone in her pain, to just grieve. Eomer had been there, and for that her heart rejoiced. But she had not seen him, nor knew of his current condition, and for that her heart wept.

The bed was calling to her, to comfort and cradle her tired body. Indeed though this place seemed dreary and foreboding from the outside, it was well kept on the inside, at least in the royal quarters. Being built into the mountain, the cold winds would often come down swift over the fortress so blankets were heavy on the plush beds. This was also in part due to the lack of a fireplace in the room. The lack of wood in the surrounding areas only allowed fireplaces in the key areas where a large group of people could warm their bones, and the luxury could not be extended to personal rooms.

Dressing in a long tunic found in the wardrobe, she pulled the blankets back on the large bed, and fluffed the pillow. She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the pendant out from under her tunic, and sighed, her heart fluttering broken once more that day. A knock came to her door, breaking her privacy.

"Come in." She spoke loudly, not moving. She didn't want to show her sorrow. She was a princess after all, and should be strong for the people. That is what her mother always taught her. The door creaked as it opened. "What bids you here this evening?" She asked, shaking her head softly, thinking perhaps it was Eowyn, or someone bringing food.

"I was told this was where one could find the most beautiful woman in Middle Earth." A strong voice reverberated from the doorway. It struck chords in her soul as the voice hit her ears. She stood suddenly, and there at the door, he stood. His armor was dirty and bloody, his hair messy, his maned helm under his arm, as his eyes bore into her own.

"Eomer..." She sighed, rushing over to him. The helm was set down on a nearby dresser forgotten as she wrapped her arms around his neck crying tears of happiness. She ran her fingers through his hair, gently grasping it as she kissed him deeply. "I thought you were gone." She softly cried.

"I could not leave you now." He purred back to her, kissing her cheek down her neck. "My dear do have some faith." He rubbed her sides gently. "I would have sought you sooner, but I had to report to the king, where we had quite a long talk. he barely remembers me claiming my courtship to you. We spoke of many things before I could no longer stand being away from you." He scooped her up and kissed again with more passion.

"I'd ask you to come to bed, but you smell too much of battle and horse to allow you anywhere near my blankets." She laughed through her occasional tearfall. "I don't want to wake up thinking I've slept with an Uruk-hai." She added, as she took a step back.

"Hmm, now this seems oddly familiar." Eomer smirked as Aravis sat at the edge of the bed watching him strip off his armor. His clothes beneath were indeed dirty and in need of washing. She pulled out a tunic and a pair of leggings for him as he bathed in the cool water. It was better than a dip in the river, especially after the battle he had just engaged in. And there, on the end of the bed, was his princess in a long beige tunic that covered halfway down her thigh. Her smooth legs were crossed, threatening to expose her buttock. The neck of the tunic was unlaced, leaving it open to expose her cleavage. The chain of the familiar pendant was set in the valley of her breasts as she leaned back, watching him. She knew what he was thinking, and she couldn't want for him to get out of the bath.

The moment Eomer was dry enough, he bent down in front of Aravis, pushing her back into the bed. Her legs uncrossed, allowing him in between her thighs. Though he was in dire need of her body, he restrained himself, instead he allowed her head to meet her pillow, and caressed her. He had plenty of time for the sex, but it was her as a whole he needed. To feel her there, that she was real and not another dream he had meant more to him at that moment than sex.

Of course, the sex did occur. He is a man after all, and she a woman, and both were in love with the other. As Eomer lay his head on Aravis' breast, he sighed. "You know we will probably go to Gondor..." He could hear her heart speed up a little before settling down again. "We ride with the broken line of Gondor. Did you know?" He looked up to her as she furrowed her brow.

"The broken line... Isildurs line?" She arched a brow as he nodded, pulling away to lay on his side to talk to her as usually they did when spoke in bed. "Aragorn?" She smiled. Eomer nodded.

"The battle will soon be on the doorstep of Minas Tirith, and it is likely Rohan will answer the call. Especially when their rightful king has helped us so. Besides, it would serve to help restore him to the throne, and strengthen ties between our lands." He sighed.

"Are your bonds not already strong, Rohan and Gondor?" She tilted her head.

"Not for many a long year, my love. Gondor nobles are of high society. Of class and frivolity if you ask me. Balls, and banquets, fine clothing and perfect manners. Things that Rohan doesn't so much prize as it does honor, and honesty. And of course our horses." Eomer cocked a brow in humor, drawing a soft giggle from Aravis.

"They think us unvicilized brutes, and we think of them snobs, and it has been that way for a long time. However, Aragorn is a ranger. He has not lived the posh clean life that the soft nobles of Gondor have. So with him on the throne, it could make for a good alliance, as we would respect him as king." He rested a hand on her cheek.

"Soft lives of nobles, my dear you make me feel bad." Aravis pouted. "That sounds a bit like the life in Dale." She sighed.

"Yes my love, but you are also flexible to learn my savage ways." He leaned forward growling, kissing her neck and shoulder drawing playful laughter from her. When their playing died down, things turned serious once more.

"What shall I do if you do go to Gondor?" She asked, not knowing where that would put her. Eomer shook his head.

"I would ask you to return to Edoras. Help my sister to restore the people, and get life back to normal, for they will need strong leaders when we are away." He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"And what if you do not come back?" She wanted to prepare for the worst. "It would be a long and lonely road back to Dale, I can assure you." She laced her fingers with his, and looked at the way their hands seemed to fit one anothers.

"Then marry me." Eomer rested his forehead against hers. She pulled back and searched his face.

"What?" She tilted her head in surprise.

"Marry me. Tomorrow. My uncle could marry us in the morning if you wish. It won't be a large ceremony. It certainly won't be a wedding fit for a princess, but it would officiate your position as my wife. Should I fall in battle, then you would be princess in Rohan, and have rights as much as the next. Should my uncle die in battle, than I shall be elevated to king, and you would be my queen. Should we both fall, the heavens forbid either of us do, you would still be queen, and Eowyn would certainly guide you best." He explained to her as she shook her head.

"But we have not courted a year." She blushed. It would definitely be unorthodox, but then again, with him, she was.

"And I am not guarenteed another year to court you. I would rather die knowing I married the woman I love, than wish I would have married you when I had the chance." He kissed her tenderly, sealing her decision.

"Then on the morrow, we wed, for I will have you, Lord Eomer, as my husband." She spoke softly, returning his gentle kisses.