A Companion for the Lord

The hour was close to dawn when Lothíriel felt her lord husband stirring next to her. She had been fast asleep and dreaming of trying to find something in her father's palace, but it came to a close when the King moved by her side. She cracked open one eye and saw him sitting up, running a hand through his tangled hair and yawning profusely. Then he got up and sauntered sleepily towards the washing chamber, stretching as he went. His air was so unlike his usual quiet but assertive confidence that she had to blink, as if to make sure the nude man moving about in the chamber was really her husband and not some stranger who had wandered in and got in bed with her. Somehow, it almost seemed endearing.

The sudden thought was so bewildering that she snapped wide awake. Where had that come from? True, ever since the night the King had unexpectedly returned and announced he'd rather sleep in his own bed next to his lovely wife, his manner had been gentler towards her than ever before. She had no idea of what had caused the shift in his treatment of her, and she didn't know how to ask. Be it as may, ever since he had started to touch her more often and there was warmth in his voice when he spoke to her – such warmth as she had not heard until now.

She sat up in the bed, unsure of how to feel. I'm still half asleep, she told herself and rubbed her eyes.

The King appeared once more from the washing chamber, now looking like he was fully awake. To her sleepy eyes, he seemed surprised when he saw her sitting up in the bed.

"My lady, it is only dawn. You needn't wake up yet", he spoke in a low, soft tone, as though afraid to disturb the peace of the early hour.

"Is everything all right, my lord?" she asked him, though she knew he rarely slept past the sunrise.

"Of course. I was merely thinking of going for my morning ride", he answered; these days, dawn was often the only time he could go and take his usual turn to the plains around the capital.

Her lord husband pulled on some clothes and she thought he would head out, but unexpectedly he came around the bed to her side, and halted there. Lothíriel looked warily at him and wondered what he was thinking – for the thousandth time, it seemed – when he picked up her hand. Then, as she grew more bewildered, he planted a quick but not ungentle kiss on her knuckles.

"I will see you later. Rest, my queen."

Before she could react or say anything, he had already dropped her hand and was striding for the door, leaving behind a rather bewildered wife. In silence, Lothíriel stared after the broad back of the King and tried to decide what to make of this.

Perhaps, after all, he did care.

That same day, Lothíriel received her very first invitation to have tea together with one local lady. She was Captain Éothain's wife, Lady Scýne – a tall, red-haired woman with green eyes and a ready smile. She was arrayed in bright green and her woven belt was blue as the sky, and next to her, the young queen felt oddly colourless in her pearl-grey dress and belt wrought of silver. Back home, white and grey and silver had always been her preferred colours, but here in this land of green and gold, she felt like a pale, unattractive thing.

But she forgot about her sudden insecurity when Scýne gave her a warm smile and inquired if she would be interested in joining her for afternoon tea, and seeing the day was not a particularly busy one, Lothíriel happily agreed. Maybe this was her chance to finally make a friend.

They walked together to where Scýne and her husband had their house, trailed by a few royal guards, who came along more out of formality than the actual need; on the way, most they talked about was weather and differences between climates of Dol Amroth and Rohan. But once they were seated inside the sunny little solar that belonged to Scýne herself and was as rich in colours as its owner, Lothíriel felt brave enough to ask a bit more personal question.

"How long have you been married to Captain Éothain?" she inquired the red-haired woman. Scýne had already insisted her to drop the title, though she wasn't apparently going to do the same immediately.

"It's been four years now. But we knew each other long before that, my lady – both our families come from Aldburg", she answered with a slight smile.

"But you are living in Edoras now", Lothíriel noted the obvious.

"Aye. When Éomer became king, we knew we would have to move here if Éothain was to continue as a captain. And to be honest, I don't think my husband can imagine doing or being anything else. So we left to establish a new life here. It wasn't hard, thankfully – our society is small enough and we already knew many people who live in the capital. When Éothain is away with the King, I often go to visit my family and relatives back in Aldburg", Scýne answered, speaking away in effortless Westron. She had a pleasant voice with a musical tone to it, and Lothíriel thought one could easily have listened to her for hours.

"Do you miss your old home, though?" she asked as she lifted her cup of tea – herbs picked wild from meadows, perhaps, or from a small patch of kitchen orchard.

"Sometimes. Fortunately, life can be very busy here at the capital, so most days I don't even remember to miss days gone by. Of course, things were in many ways simpler then, and a position as the wife of King's second in command is more prestigious than I had guessed. But we have peace now, and whenever I send Éothain on his way, I'm not so painfully afraid whether he will come back", said the captain's wife, and a small frown visited her face. But then she smiled again and pushed the plate of warm scones closer to her royal guest.

"He must be good friends with my lord husband", Lothíriel noted carefully, sensing a chance to learn a bit more about the King.

"That they are, my lady. Éothain has been his right hand for a long time now, and before that they trained in the same éored. They practically grew up together, for Éothain's father rode with Lord Éomund, and so my husband was always running about the Marshal's Hall when he was a lad. I gather those two boys got into a lot of trouble together!" Scýne said and let out a soft little laugh, but it died quickly, as though she had remembered some dark memory. Indeed, she went on in a more serious tone, "And after Marshal Éomund died, Éomer... well, he more or less lived at Éothain's house."

Hearing that last sentence, Lothíriel looked quizzically at the red-haired woman.

"Why is that?" she wanted to know, wrapped up in this tale so that she hardly remembered her tea anymore. Somehow, she felt like glimpsing through stained glass into another time.

Scýne hesitated for a second before answering, and when she did, she spoke in a low voice, as though she was betraying some kind of a secret.

"My lady, he looked so much like his late father that his mother couldn't bear to see his face", she said, her brow creasing as her expression grew uneasy.

The young queen stared at the Eorling lady in a mixture of wonder and horror. Scýne probably guessed right away what was going through her mind, and so she continued quickly, "She loved his father very dearly. But people say Princess Théodwyn was frail, too, and troubled at times. Lord Éomund's death broke her heart and she was never the same afterwards. In fact, she died before the year ended."

Up until now, Lothíriel had learned little of her lord husband's early life. Well, she had known his parents had died when he had been young, but she hadn't guessed the story would hold so much tragedy. Suddenly, a wave of heart-wrenching sympathy went through her. To endure something like that as a young lad! No wonder he was so shut inside his walls.

"But he was just a child! It's not his fault if he looked like his father", she managed to speak at last. Lothíriel felt almost angry at the long dead princess – to first treat one's own son like that, and then pass away, when her children most needed her... she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down and reminded herself it had all happened many years ago, and she couldn't judge someone she had never even met.

"Of course not. I'm not saying it's right what happened or that Éomer was somehow to blame for his mother's decline. Éothain spent years telling him that very thing. Lady Lǽs might know if he ever actually believed it... pain like that isn't easily forgotten", Scýne said and shook her head. Then she looked straight at the young queen again, "But perhaps it helps you understand him a bit more. If he seems withdrawn sometimes, it's not because of you."

After that, there seemed to be a shared understanding to move on to other topics. So they did, talking more about Rohan and its people, Scýne was glad to provide an answer to whatever questions she had in mind, and the red-haired woman spared no amusing anecdotes about her the fierce folk of Riders that lived in this land. Through those stories, the young queen learned there was so much more to the Rohirrim than she had thought before. Though they were warriors, they also had a sense of humour and an understanding for sweet, delicate things. They were a people who had a passion for living, and they loved this green land and their songs and stories. Even if they were young in the reckoning of years, their bravery, sincerity and frankness was unmatched. And when Lothíriel left the house of the captain and his lady, she felt hopeful and thought she had indeed managed to make a friend. At least, she wouldn't mind having afternoon tea with Scýne again some time soon.

That pleasant thought aside, Lothíriel thought she had received plenty for thought that afternoon, and like she had hoped, it gave her a new insight to the character of her lord husband. For the first since the had met him and taken him for a man who simply didn't do well with people, Lothíriel considered perhaps it was something else altogether. Maybe it all was just too many years of self-blame and unhappiness, even fear that old tragedy might repeat itself if he opened up to others. However, as long as he did not confirm it one way or the other, she could only guess.

It happened she came across the very man and her brother in the courtyard of the Golden Hall. Erchirion was arrayed in his riding attire, and she guessed they had just returned from inspecting the royal herds – no doubt the King had wanted to make sure their guest would not be leaving the capital without making some kind of a deal with the horselords.

With a smile, she approached the two men.

"Sister! There you are", Erchirion said and smiled as well when he saw her. "Your husband is a most cruel man! He just took me to see some of the finest horses I've ever seen my entire life, but now he's telling me I can't even be expecting a discount for the sake of family relations!"

"Don't look at me, brother! You know Father would never be selling one of his beloved ships for any less than it's worth, and Mother would never have presumed to try to make him think otherwise", she told him brightly, trying not to look at her lord husband, though she could feel his eyes on her.

"Hmph! I am most disappointed, sister", Erchirion said, shaking his head.

"Well, don't blame me for your fancy that the Queen of Rohan would come to your help in the matter of giving up horses!" she said in good humour. But there was some excitement too, because curiosity had woken in her, and she couldn't help but wonder what these words, however jokingly shared, made the King think.

She stole a glimpse of his face and saw him regarding her, but as ever, his expression was guarded. Any other day she might have left it at that, but the conversation with Lady Scýne still lived at the back of her mind, and it was that which inspired her following action.

Maybe there was no easy way of getting inside his head, or taking a stab at his ever-present walls. But there were some things she could do... some things that might just reassure him that whatever griefs and regrets lay behind, she could be trusted not to become one of them.

So she gave them another smile and spoke, "I must get going, if the household is to get any dinner tonight. I will see you later."

She patted Erchirion's shoulder and then turned towards her lord husband. He didn't seem to expect it when she took his hand in her own and gave it a pull, gentle but with some command. Though by now she knew the feel of his hands, it was different to hold it in her own – hard, strong fingers that felt like iron made flesh. As if knowing what she wanted, he leaned down enough for her to tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

Then, before the man could react, Lothíriel let him go and headed for the Hall, and in her breast there was a strange flutter that did not fall quiet until much later that afternoon.

And when night came that day and the King joined her in the bed, she did not wait for him to reach for her. Instead, she turned to him as soon as he had lain next to her, her hands shy and uncertain as though she was touching him for the first time. When her lips found his in the dark, she could feel the faintest intake of breath, but the answer came quickly and fiercely.

She was glad, because at least here, in this dark hour, she could feel something more from him than just walls and quiet.

About a week later, Erchirion was happy to announce he and the King had reached an understanding that satisfied them both. In the quiet of her thoughts, Lothíriel was not equally happy to hear this announcement, for she knew it meant he would be going home. For a while, her brother had lit up this place in a way she had not known to expect, and once he was gone, she would miss her family all the more. Thankfully, she would at least have the company of Lady Scýne now; her hopes for befriending the red-haired woman had not been in vain, and the captain's wife dropped by in the Golden Hall every now and then.

But she kept her silence and merely smiled at her brother when he told her he would be heading home in a few days, and promised to make sure he and his company would have enough provisions for the journey. At night, she was busy finishing her letters for family members back in Dol Amroth.

The morning of his planned departure came all too soon, and through breakfast Lothíriel felt like there was a dagger digging its way deeper and deeper into her chest. Even then, she kept up a brave, smiling face; if Erchirion saw through it, he made no such implication. Perhaps she had convinced him indeed on the day he had first arrived in Edoras, and he had made his worried remarks about her marital happiness.. Or he had understood he would have been overstepping if he interfered with her and the King's private life. At least, it didn't seem like any word of it had reached her lord husband's ears.

As much as she would have liked to prolong the breakfast, eventually her brother began to shift anxiously, until he stated he should be on his way already if he and his company intended to get anywhere today. So she smiled and said she'd just go and change her shoes, and then see to him to the road.

King Éomer appeared as if from nowhere when they came to the terrace, speaking his own words of farewell in those low, solemn tones she had come to know. At least, there was also camaraderie in his voice that only those he considered his friends would ever receive. He rested a hand on Erchirion's shoulder, until Lothíriel came with the cup of parting, and her brother drank deep from the golden vessel.

"Have a safe journey, brother. Give my love to the family", she whispered in his ear when they hugged, and it demanded much not to cry when she had to let go of him.

"Be well, sister", he said to her with a smile, and after nodding at the King, he started down the steps of the Golden Hall. Lothíriel wrapped her arms around her midsection and watched her brother go.

Suddenly, just when Erchirion was mounting his steed, she could feel a hand falling on her shoulder. Sharply she turned her head, only to see the King standing close by, with his hand on her. She blinked in confusion and opened her mouth to say something, but no word came out.

"I am sorry he couldn't stay longer", he said quietly, meeting her gaze in that keen, vehement fashion of his. How could someone be so reserved and yet so heady at the same time? The man was a puzzle she thought she'd never comprehend.

"He has his life back in Gondor", she simply stated, looking down before he could see the blush that was sure to appear any moment now on her cheeks. Did the King even know how much he confused her?

"Aye. And your life is here. I know it is a privilege I have not deserved, my lady", King Éomer suddenly said, and her head snapped up, more bewildered than ever. For a brief moment, she felt like that night he had come home early, and she had thought she could see him smiling in the darkness. Was she glimpsing the real person who hid behind all those walls, and all those stories?

Before she could say anything, he lifted her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles.

"You look beautiful today, my Queen", he stated in a peculiar mixture of gruffness and warmth only he seemed to be capable of.

Then, as she was still trying to comprehend what had just happened, he was already striding back inside the Hall.

Oh dear. There came that blush, just as she had expected.

Rainy days in Edoras were different than in Dol Amroth. By the sea, rains came fast and violent, but her two and a half months in Rohan rather implied there was a wide variance between every weather. It could be a proper pour-down, or a storm that seemed just about ready to tear down the capital, or a gentle grey drizzle that went on from dawn till dusk. Today, it was precisely that sort, and Lothíriel had spent most of the day by a fire in the Queen's Solar, catching up with her correspondence and writing down some orders for merchants in Dol Amroth. Only yesterday, she had heard her lord husband muttering to one of his Riders how dull food had been the last winter, and she had decided to make sure he'd be in for a surprise this year – at least, if he expected the issue of tasteless food to continue.

She had emerged from her warm little nest for her afternoon lesson with the King's Minstrel, who had promised to teach her the song of Helm Hammerhand today. It was something that had surprised her in the start, when she had begun to learn about the history of Rohan, though perhaps it shouldn't have. She had thought to receive a multitude of long lessons, the way she had been taught by her old schoolmasters. However, much of the lessons until now had consisted of songs, because that was how Rohirrim preserved their past. It was strange and fascinating and she couldn't say she disliked it. Often during her daily life she would hear these songs her teacher had first presented to her, sung by people around her. She might pass a kitchen maid singing about Théodwyn the Fair, or a Doorward humming to himself about Fréaláf Hildeson. One of her maids, the girl named Guthild, was an expert on songs about Eorl the Young, which she had learned from her great-grandmother. Sometimes, she would be singing them in the Hall for an eager audience. And Lothíirel understood: music was in the blood of her new people.

Most of the time, her lessons were conducted in the great Hall, as Swidhelm the King's Minstrel claimed it was the only place in Edoras he could sing the great songs of the Kings of Rohan properly. And more often than not, it would gather an audience around them, until Gytha would arrive and shoo everyone back to their labours. But Swidhelm's song would rise to the high rafters of the Hall, and in shadows and half-lights of Meduseld Lothíriel felt like she could almost see those kings of days gone by, hear their voices and their laughter, and sense their presence in this House where Eorl's heirs had lived and died.

Gytha was with Lothíriel, taking down orders for next week's luncheon she would be organising for noble ladies of the court. Apparently, no one had heard of the queen doing such a thing before she had come here as the King's bride; back home in Dol Amroth, Mother had frequently hosted ladies of Belfalas. She had sometimes said it was just as important to keep them happy as it was to maintain a good relationship with the lords of the land. And perhaps, if she managed to win the wives and kinswomen of the mighty men of the Mark on her side, then all Eorlingas would eventually come to regard her as their own queen.

Lothíriel and her company of her chatelaine and two maids was halfway through the Hall when the twin doors of the Hall were opened, and a rain-soaked Rider came inside. Judging by his appearance, one might have thought he had swam here instead of riding.

It happened so the King was present at the time, sitting at one table with a couple of his friends around him. There sat the Captain Éothain, his second in command and most trusted companion, and Marshal Elfhelm who had served as a commander for many years. All three of them looked up when the doors opened and the Rider came, and the King got up on his feet when his name was called.

The Rider spoke fast in Rohirric, and Lothíriel was close enough to hear the conversation. However, the words were exchanged so rapidly she quickly fell behind, and she was trapped in that uncomprehending feeling she hated more and more as days passed without her grasp of Rohirric improving.

The King answered, his voice sharp and loud. He stood straight and grim like a gleaming blade, and his anger was as though a coat of mail about him. It was a vaguely alarming thing to see.

"What are they talking about?" she whispered to Gytha, anxious to know what this conversation was about.

"Lord Erkenbrand sent the Rider", the chatelaine whispered back, leaning closer to the young queen, "He speaks of a certain scoundrel who has gone around in the West-Mark, claiming to be Théodred Prince and accusing the King of stealing his throne. Erkenbrand says this villain and his band recently robbed a village in Westfold, but the Riders from Hornburg were unable to track them down. The King is very angry."

Lothíriel looked sharply at the chatelaine. This was grave news!

"Why haven't I heard about this?" she asked the older woman, and the look of surprise on Gytha's face took her aback.

"But my lady, I thought the King had disclosed it to you already", Gytha answered, her words inflaming Lothíriel's dismay even further.

For the first time during her time in Rohan, she couldn't find the slightest bit from her education and knowledge that would guide her now. No answer came to her mind, not even an idea of how she should react. She stood silently, staring at the figure of her husband, and feeling strangely betrayed.

Eventually, when she was able to speak, she formed the words stiffly, "Please inform Swidhelm we won't be having our lesson today. I don't feel so well. I think I need to lay down for a bit."

She turned around, not waiting for Gytha's response. Swiftly she walked, heading for the royal chambers, and it took the very last inch of her self-control to get there without breaking her act.

Once she reached the security of the royal apartment, her breaths came as shallow gasps. A sob was trying to fight its way out, but she gritted her teeth against it. In an attempt to calm herself down, she first washed her face with cold water, then scrubbed it, and eventually she just went for the flask of strong liquor she knew her husband had hidden inside a drawer next to the bed. She gulped down a hearty amount, coughing as the liquid burned her throat and stomach. But she welcomed the fire and the warmth that began to spread into her limbs, and she sat down on the edge of the bed. There she sat counting her breaths until her mind calmed and the pain of last five minutes began to subside – or, at least, became a bit easier to handle.

Lothíriel got up on her feet again and she began to pace, her mind fast at work. This was what she had feared: becoming a pretty ornament for some lord, living her days ignorant of what happened in the realm and the world. It would have been easy to blame her lord husband for it and maybe he was partly at fault. But then, perhaps she could have done more... perhaps Meduseld was a place where one needed to elbow their way in, if one wanted to be a part of things. She couldn't expect anyone to just give her what she wanted. And her feeble grasp of Rohirric surely did not help. How could she know anything, or be anything if she didn't even know the tongue of this land? No one would regard her a strong queen if she had no voice. And as long as she remained without one, no whispers would reach her ears, and the King would never regard her an asset.

She had to learn, and quick. And she needed to get the attention of her lord husband – elbow her way in, if that was necessary.

Lothíriel halted before her dressing table and gazed at her reflection. The face staring back seemed pale and distressed, but the grey eyes had not yet lost their spark.

"I won't give up. I refuse to be a failure", she said to the white-faced woman in the mirror, as though she could will her into a more powerful individual.

She could be just that. Father had known it, and she did too. How else would she have become the Queen of Rohan?

The King's timing was favourable to her: when he came, she was calm and resolute again, and she had mastered her anxiety and hurt. When he appeared at the door and she looked up, she thought he seemed concerned.

"My lady", he spoke with the faintest note of urgency, "Gytha said you were not feeling well. Are you ill? Should I send for a healer?"

"No, my lord. I'm feeling better already. Whatever it was, it has passed now", Lothíriel said with a faint little smile.

"Good. I was worried you had become sick, my lady. It would be a very unhappy thing", he said and nodded his head at her, looking like he was already preparing some word of parting to make his exit.

Elbow your way in, she thought to herself again, and Lothíriel stood up from her seat next to the fireplace.

"My lord, I wanted to talk to you", she said, her voice coming out louder than she had intended.

He halted, looking surprised as though she had suddenly announced some exceedingly bizarre news. Warily he regarded her, "What is it, lady wife?"

"That Rider who arrived before", Lothíriel started carefully, hoping that her question would not be driving him into a corner or make him shut down. She had to try. So she went on, "Gytha said Lord Erkenbrand sent him. She told me there is a man, claiming to be Théodred Prince."

The King frowned and looked away from her. But if this was a sign he didn't like her asking this thing, she couldn't say.

"Aye, there is such a man. He has been raiding in the West-Mark for some weeks now. Of course, his claims are utter nonsense, but he is cunning and so far he has eluded all the attempts to capture him", he answered at length, and Lothíriel relaxed. At least, he wasn't going to turn her down completely.

"So, Lord Erkenbrand is trying to catch him?" she asked her spouse.

"Indeed. He reassures me the scoundrel will not be able to avoid his Riders forever, and I trust him. Erkenbrand is very good at what he does", the King said and stared ahead. "And we have time on our side. When the winter comes, this impostor will not have many places left to hide."

"Do you think he's a threat to the throne?" Lothíriel asked. The longer this conversation went on, the more confident she felt. This was what she had been waiting for: hearing her husband speak to her of his concerns, learning about Rohan through his eyes, and perhaps learning about him in the process, too.

"Not really. He has only a few supporters, and those are more interested in raiding than actually trying to dethrone me in his favour. Anyone with their wits still about them knows he's nothing more than a liar and a robber. But I should have expected something like this would happen. After all, I am the first of the third line of the Kings of the Mark. It will take some time to establish my rule and convince everyone I will not fail their expectations", he spoke, his voice softer now, and somehow more alive than before. Lothíriel sensed these words came from a much more private place in his thoughts than most things he had said to her until now.

"And I am sure you will do just that, lord husband. There is no possible way this so called Théodred Prince can prevail against you", she stated firmly. He looked at her in silence, and she thought his features, usually so reticent and sharp when she was around, had become much gentler.

Encouraged by this, she spoke further, "My lord, why haven't you told me about this before now? Surely the Queen should know of the challenges her King is facing?"

He blinked in surprise and for a moment, she felt like his walls were gone, stripped away by the words he had not expected. He coughed and looked away, as though to get a grip on himself once more.

"My lady, I didn't realise you had interest in the matters of the realm", he said at length, his voice thinner than usual.

"But my lord, they are of utmost interest to me. I am your Queen consort, am I not?" she pointed out.

"That you are, lady wife", he agreed, looking away again. Then he straightened and met her gaze, seeming more collected now. "I shall try to mend my ways, and keep you better informed of goings in this land."

It was that easy! She felt like she could leap from her seat and kiss him, but she kept her reaction minimal. The man might just quail if his wife suddenly jumped on him without a warning.

"I would appreciate it very much", she said with a smile that was utterly, heart-warmingly genuine. And for the tiniest second, she thought she could see it answered on his solemn, strong face.

The blush came as if on its own and it was her turn to cough. Quickly she spoke, "My lord, what of the tour of the land? Do you mean to postpone it until this villain has been taken care of?"

"No, my lady. To postpone it would mean I consider him a more serious threat than he is. I shall not give him that power, or deny my people the first glimpse of their queen. I have had reports they are all very much looking forward to seeing you. Don't worry about this impostor, my queen – the royal entourage will be quite safe, and he would have to be out of his mind to make an attack against it", the King answered. Did she just imagine it or did he actually sound more relaxed than ever since the first time they had spoken to one another? She would rather have liked to make that assumption, but Lothíriel decided she had already made enough progress for one day.

"Very well. How soon will we depart?" she asked him, and whether or not she had been right in thinking he was being more casual than she had ever seen him with her, she did allow her own figure grow a bit more easy.

"I believe three weeks should be enough time to prepare", the King said, running his hand through his hair and sauntered slowly through the room. He glanced at her, "Talk to Gytha. She'll know what to do."

"I will do that, my lord", she answered with a curtsy, more or less to signal she was satisfied with their conversation. And she was, because for the first time, she felt like they had spoken to one another as king and queen of this land. Perhaps there was hope for this union yet.

The King nodded at her and now she was certain he was smiling. And what a smile it was! At once, she was certain he could have gone and conquered the entire Gondorian court, had he just wanted. But at this point, she couldn't say if he was aware of that fact at all.

"I shall see you at dinner, my lady."

To be continued.

A/N: And here's an update! Hope you enjoyed it. :)

Turns out I couldn't make it just three chapters, like I originally intended. Who's surprised? I guess I should know by now not to make statements like that!

I know many of you, my dear readers, would like to see Éomer opening up already and them talking to one another about their feelings. But I'm afraid it all has to happen in its own time! Hopefully, this chapter at least gives some light on why he's so withdrawn towards her, but also show some progress towards better communication between them.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

eschscholzia - Yes, he does recognise he would be doing no favours to Lothíriel if he just took it to his own hands. I guess he realised he needs to let them settle this between one another.

I'm glad you liked that bit! :) I'm afraid it has to stay a mystery for the time being.

Anon - Oh, I'm not sure it's as simple as that!

PadfootCc - Glad you liked it! I think Erchirion realised it wouldn't be right to meddle, especially when his sister tells him to stand back.

EStrunk - It may seem so, but perhaps there's more going on with him than he lets on. I'll have to let the story to explain that, though! As for Erchirion confronting him, Lothíriel's outburst makes him understand it wouldn't be right for him to get involved.

Guest - Thank you! And he will, when the time is right! ;)

finantheagile - Thanks! I'm afraid he'll have to do this in his own way and time!

Anthi35 - Thank you! Actually, I'm rather regretting I didn't write the entire wedding ceremony. But on the other hand, I had a feeling there are enough of those already, and anyway this isn't supposed to be like my longer stories.

Jo - Thank you! :)

Guest - Glad to hear that! I rather felt those months between their betrothal and the wedding weren't relevant to the story, and I'm trying to keep this from getting out of control. I'm happy to hear I've managed to do those things well! And thanks for the compliment on my English. :) I know it's not perfect, so if you feel like it, you can always point out my mistakes to me!

FriendLey - Personally, I don't have "a preferred way". Them falling in love quickly is as good to me as it happening slowly! But we all have our personal taste.

I can't really say whether there will be such content - I don't want to spoil the story. But what I can tell is I don't think we'll get Éomer's point in this one. My whole idea for this story is - if that's not revealing too much - for us to get to know him as Lothíriel does, and seeing him through her eyes. I rather want to keep these questions, what is he thinking? Why isn't he talking to her? Where is this relationship going? And answer them for Lothíriel as well as for the readers.

sailor68 - It has to happen in its own time! :) We'll see!

Guest - I can't really say anything to that, except that I will let the story answer! Anyway, I'm glad you think this isn't just one of many similar versions! :) Means a lot to me.