Eomer didn't see his wife often these days. First he was glad, later he was annoyed, and now he was kind of worried. Two weeks had passed since their big argument. Although she hadn´t seemed much different at first, there definitely were changes. The eagerness in her voice had disappeared. She was polite, but cold. Or maybe "cold" was the wrong word… she didn´t want to impress him anymore.

It was surreal to find out what she had done for him without him even noticing: Bringing him ale, reaching over for the salt or the foodplate, polishing his helmet, rubbing his back, combing his hair and other small attentions, without ever being asked to do them. She had touched him frequently, he realised. She had laid her hand on top of his, smoothed out his tunic in the morning. She stopped it after that fatal night. When their eyes locked at the breakfast table, she answered the look with indifference.

Eomer had wanted to apologise after the night in the stables, not because he felt that he was wrong, but because he didn't want her to hate him. Being king was exhausting enough even without an angry wife. But when he had reached their chambers they had already been empty. When he met her at breakfast, she had greeted him with a nod and without a smile. They had not talked about it since.

When Eomer thought about it, they had not spoken a word to each other except for greetings at all. In the councils she was silent. But she seemed not intimidated, however. Lothiriel sat straight and it made Eomer feel uneasy because it remembered him of his misbehavings. To make matters even worse, his councellors had agreed to Lothiriels arguments and made him stay at home. Instead he had sent Eothain and a full Eored to get rid of the orcs.

But now the two of them had reached another low. Eomer frowned and looked on the piece of paper on the table. In her beautiful feminine handwriting it read:

"Will be out the whole day. Expect me when I am finished."

What kind of help was that anyway? He didn't know what she was doing all the time, and he didn't really want to know, but he knew she had banned her silly embroidery utensils from their chambers. So, when should he expect her to be finished?

Lunch came and went without a princess in sight. Eomer decided to work on his papers. When it was time for dinner he sat on his throne, but the place next to him was empty. His mood sank from minute to minute and he drank a bit more ale than usually.

Suddenly the doors burst open and his wife entered, accompanied by the housekeeper and two other women. Her hair was white, as was her face, and the brown dress showed imprints of her hands in white. They laughed about something and Lothiriels hair was tousled from the wind. Maybe it was the alcohol, but Eomer recognised that she had a really nice smile. Then her look fell on him and her face hardened.

She curtsied. "My Lord, I will be by your side in a few minutes. Allow me to refresh myself. I need to get the flour off my face and my clothes."

Stiffly he nodded and she left the room. He watched her back and the swing of her hips and also remembered that her waist was small and her breasts were soft. They hadn´t lain together as husband and wife for a while now. Without thinking he drained his mug. A maid refilled it instantly.

When she was back, dressed in a dark blue dress and as clean as a queen could be, he couldn´t keep his eyes from her. Why had he even started this stupid fight? The colour suited her and Eomer saw that she was beautiful.

It didn't matter if she spoke her mind from time to time. It didn't matter that she didn't seem to contribute to the household. All that mattered was that Lothiriel was his wife. His father had once said that against general belief, it was the husband´s duty to make his wife happy, and not the other way around. A good wife would thank him with love, but he never should take it for granted.

Lothiriel didn't know of his thoughts and acted carefully around him.

"Did you have fun with the women today? Your message was not completely clear on what you were doing." Eomer asked in an attempt to start a conversation.

Lothiriel looked up, surprised. Then her eyes narrowed.

"I had fun, thank you very much, my Lord." She turned her head and sipped on her drink. Eomer was taken aback by her reserved reply.

"I…" he started, then hesitated. Emptied his mug again.

"Don't concern yourself about my well-being." Lothiriel said coolly. "This is not a good time to start." She continued eating as if nothing had happened.

On this very evening Eomer began to understand that he had been a very poor husband indeed.

When the royal couple retreated to their rooms, Eomer tried to kiss Lothiriel. Her mouth was soft and she was such a small thing in his arms and he found himself not just a little aroused.

He caught her unaware, but after seconds she quickly escaped his hug. Then she wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her dress. That hurt. The look she gave him made him cringe.

"Eomer, you are drunk.", she said.

She went to undress herself and Eomer stood stupidly around for a few moments. Then he also began to undress and went to bed. The room spun a little. How much had he drunk? He cursed. She would think he was wanton. Well, he had been a few seconds ago, but now he was cooled down by her rejection and was able to think clearly again. Bema, he was such an orc! The door opened and Lothiriel joined him under the blankets, but with her back to him.

He stared on the ceiling while her breaths began to even. They really needed to talk about things.

A/N: Thank you, Eothiriel and anthi35!

Catherine10: as you may see, I altered the sentences you helpfully pointed out :) The first thing one reads in this fic should really match the characters. Thank you.

I don´t think it was a good idea that I started writing this now, because I really should spend every minute on fanfiction otherwise. However, fanfiction wins.

But I am not one to write big novels, as are so many other talented writers here, so this story will be rather short. Approximately 15 - 20 chapters.

Let me know what you think :)

HELLO SIMON!