Author's notes: Oh my gosh, a very long time since I have updated and I truly apologize but guess what? I'm done, no more school, ever! Haha. So now I can update more frequently, hopefully. ;) Stay tuned for the future chapters I have some big plans for the storyline.

Sincerely,

Laura

The dark gates opened for the returning party. Elphir and Erchirion feared for their father and rode behind the two guards that dragged the stretcher cautiously. Imrahil was lying flat upon it, although now suffering and yelping in anguish once again, for the movement had disturbed his bodies' way of stabilizing his injuries. Eomer rode with Lothiriel seated in front of him, one hand around her waist keeping her upright. Eomer summoned more guards to escort them to the golden hall.

When they reached the steps, Eomer lifted down Lothiriel from the saddle, her body hung limply in his arms. Still holding her, he ordered a stable boy to take his horse. Eomer followed in pursuit of the troop of seven guards that carried Imrahil into the golden hall and then through to the chambers where healers awaited to assess and attend to him.

Eomer hurriedly brought Lothiriel to the healers who set her down on the bed, examining her cold and feverish body at great lengths. Eomer observed as the healers moved about the room, his body hunched over, his hands tightly clenched together in front of his mouth.

Amrothos entered the room, rushing over to his sister's side.

"How did this happen?" Eomer brought his eyes to meet the young prince, his head still hung low but his eyes welled up with tears that threatened to fall. He tore his hands a part as if he were about to stand in frustration. He brought his hands back together and spoke in earnest.

"My charge is for her safe-keeping, Amrothos?"

Elphir stepped into the room and proceeded in answering the King's question. "My father used to take my mother out for rides along the beaches of the Bay at night. Once my mother passed, he continued the tradition with Lothiriel."

"How is your father?" He asked, overwrought the idea that both of them were lost for all hours of the night in the freezing conditions on the plains.

"They say he has a mass bruising along his left side, they suspect he has injured his ribs, fractured them perhaps. They will bind him with a belt and he will need rest, a lot of it." Noticing Amrothos' expression, he continued. "He will live; we will not fear the worst little brother."

The next few days in Edoras were tedious. A warm fire crackled in the King and Queen's bed chamber. Lothiriel awoke from her slumber; she brushed her fingertips across the extra fur blankets that covered her. Pushing them aside she got up to dress herself and head for the hall in search of Eomer.

Upon hearing raised voices in the hallway, she headed towards the yelling. It was distinctively that of her husband and father.

"She may be your daughter but she is my wife, Imrahil, and Queen of Rohan for god sake. Your acts of foolishness endangered both your lives." Eomer was more than angry, he was livid. Imrahil, who was now infuriated sat up as far as he could, ignoring the pressing pain.

The door creaked and Eomer spun around to see a pair of grey eyes glaring back at his. She entered the room, silently awaiting him to continue his scolding of their actions and sure enough he continued, her presence only spurring him on.

"Edoras is not Dol Amroth, the wind changes here. Riding out in the darkness and not in the light of day makes rocks and unsteady land difficult to see. The horses cannot see but a-stride in front of another!" Eomer paced back and forth, strictly enlightening them on the ways of the land.

There were many reasons why one did not take such action. The realm was far diverse in landscape than Dol Amroth; it was far from the beaches of their homeland.

"You may have thought the past time of these midnight rides was a harmless fault, however what it could have resulted in- no, I cannot speak of it." There was an uncomfortable distance between Eomer and herself, she watched him pace at the other end of the room. Gruffly sighing in frustration, Eomer abruptly turned and left the chambers.

Imrahil grew stronger over the passing weeks. Lothiriel had spent much time assuring Eomer she was fit enough to do anything, but alas there was no arguing with the determined and spirited Queen.

Soon Imrahil and the princes would be returning home. The princes were skeptical about their father's recovery, which led to the conclusion that Imrahil would be in better care at the Houses of Healing.

Morning, Lothiriel peered through the doorway of the great hall. Slouched back at a long table was Eomer, feeding a piece of chicken to a dog. She loitered awhile before she heard Eomer's deep voice call to her.

"Since you are up and about, you may as well join me." Eomer had absorbed himself in addressing to his clerical duties.

'Nothing gets past him' she grumbled.

"I did not want to disturb you." She spoke sincerely.

"A bit late for that" He teased lightheartedly and beckoned her to follow him back to the mountain of parchments that was stacked up nice and tall, a feather quill lay next to a vile of ink.

"I am signing these parchments; it is one of my many rousing duties." Eomer rarely opted for sarcasm. He was always sincere in what he spoke, but he seemed different today.

It was true Eomer and Lothiriel had grown a part over these last few months. Eomer felt the strain of being King, re-building a war torn region and their marriage had taken a severe blow. He often reminisced back to what it felt like first meeting Lothiriel in the white city. He fondly thought back to when he first laid eyes on her, Aragorn held a welcoming feast in Merethrond on his return to Minas Tirith some months after the War of the Ring. After their introduction, he was almost immediately besotted with the Gondorian beauty. She was well spoken, a scholar, she had the beauty of an elf and the prestige of any true royalty of Gondor. The Princess of Dol Amroth seemed like a dream, her fairness and delicate nature captured Eomer, she reminded him of the majestic nature of the Mearas.

King Aragorn finished his toast to the King of Rohan with a warmhearted smile.

Eomer noticed her across the hall, standing with Elphir and Amrothos. Her hair tied up and dressed in a royal purple gown, she looked like the essence of happiness as she laughed openly, her smile, oh her smile, he thought.

Never had he been afraid to approach a woman before, never having much time for them before. He had always dreaded the responsibility of a wife. For no man's life was a guarantee, there was no certainty of return from battle. He had been in relations with women, but nothing of a serious nature, for no woman had ever captured him, not like her.

Faramir, Aragorn, Imrahil and Eomer later discussed the pressing issue of the borders ofIthilien and future plans for Osgiliath, avoiding the party atmosphere with inappropriate timing. The invitation was extended to Eomer to join the Great Council of Gondor. The clustered group of men were intensely discussing the matter, before Faramir was stolen away to dance with Eowyn.

"It's a celebration is it not? The politics can wait, can they not?" Eowyn's question was asked with a slight smirk.

"Eowyn!" Eomer's voice thickened with surprise at her behaviour.

"It is most alright Eomer." Aragorn laughed lightly as Faramir was dragged away by a delighted Eowyn "I do believe I should be dancing with my Queen…" his eager eyes searched around for her "…where ever she is."

A bewildered Imrahil and Eomer were left standing as the dance began. Eomer grinned at the awkwardness of their situation. "So, ah- may I?" Imrahil chuckled and slapped him on the back in a cheery manner. "Come Eomer, I would like you to officially meet my daughter." He beamed him a wide grin.

Noticing her father and the King of Rohan coming towards them, Lothiriel brushed down her dress most subtly but Eomer noticed her nervousness, for he felt much the same. Eomer steadied himself, as drew near he noticed he was far larger of stature than the Princess; she was neither overly tall nor short, but those eyes.

"Lothiriel, daughter, I would like to introduce you formally to the King of Rohan, Eomer son of Eomund, lord of the Riddermark." Imrahil's introduction was most courteous; Eomer noted the sly smile formed at his lips. Lothiriel bowed her head at the King, Amrothos moved to stand quietly behind her; he nibbled at his nails, suppressing his cheekiness, for Papa had already made his intentions clear to his three sons. He had hoped to introduce their little sister to the King.

"May I Princess Lothiriel?" Surprised at his question, she froze up before feeling a nudge in her back from Amrothos; she placed her hand in his much larger one. If she were to compare him to her new King Aragorn, he was far from kinglike in appearance.

Eomer cursed the healed over cuts and rough dried skin on his hands that must have been unpleasant to touch. This woman came from a house of fineries, although he was never attracted to vain or frivolous women, it seemed she was neither.

She continued to captivate him throughout the night and the pair quickly became the whispers of the evening. She impressed him with her knowledge of Rohan. She was intelligent and quick to voice her opinions and thoughts. Her beauty could have only been countered by the fairness of the elves. Eomer held no need to wonder on whether his courtship of the Gondorian Prince's daughter would be welcomed by Imrahil, for he was a man of great integrity.

Imrahil looked up from the book he was reading, Eomer entered.

"Ah you have come to visit me."

Eomer meandered over to the bed and traced the carvings in the wood of the bedpost.

"Are you feeling any better?" Imrahil shrugged. "I will soon be back on my feet."

"The healers say you have recovered well." He sat upon the end of the bed. Imrahil placed the book down.

Tension was still apparent between them; though Eomer cared deeply for the man he fought alongside on the Pelennor, they were brothers in war and now family. The respect and kindness the Prince had shown him after Théoden's funeral was undoubtedly most admirable. Although what Imrahil would say next, shocked Eomer to his core.