The days that followed Lothiriel's confession were strange in the Royal household. The staff went about their business as usual, dressing the King and Queen, preparing their baths at night and serving their meals at different parts of the day. Whilst the normality of the house prevailed for the servants the Royal couple became alienated from one another. Disgusted by his own behaviour and actions towards his wife Eomer withdrew himself from their chambers and began sleeping in his own room, when he was home that is. It was rare that the King was seen around the Golden Hall of late, finding a number of reasons to be away or simply out as much as possible during the day.

There were genuine reasons for Eomer to be out and about in his kingdom. The fine weather his people had enjoyed over recent weeks were now long since passed. The days were becoming shorter and nights even colder. He travelled far and covered great distances with his Eored, ensuring that those living on the farthest reaches of Rohan had all the supplies they needed for the coming winter. Within the city itself he had the ongoing job of convincing tenants to move to the safety and shelter of the new town. His advisors had given up trying to convince those that lived outside the city to move inward, so a scheme was devised for the elderly and most humble of people in the Auld town would move to the newly built houses, and the remnants of their old homes would be recycled for other purposes.

Before long the Yule festivals had arrived in Rohan and throughout the city men, women and children alike were preparing themselves for the celebrations. As tradition dictated, the eve before the Yule day the King would open his doors to the city and prepare a great feast for the people of Edoras. This year was Lothiriel's first experience of the ritual and despite her antisocial home life she was looking forward to the party. She had been informed by Freawyn that unlike the other festivals, the Yule celebrations may not be what she imagined them or be to her taste. The halls were filled with the King's people, mainly common and whilst their antics whilst not unruly, they were different and less formal to the more noble families. Freawyn unintentionally worried Lothiriel with her council but her minds were put at rest when Hilda explained she attended the feast every year and thoroughly enjoyed it.

The preparations for the party took hold weeks before the actual date. The kitchens and larders were crammed with food, ale and all manner of implements for the cooks to produce the sumptuous feast. Though some felt the King had spent far too much money on the celebration, he reminded those that questioned his judgement, what was not eaten or drank on the night would be distributed to those less able to attend the following day. A band was hired to entertain the masses and the Hall was decked out with garlands, flowers and other decorations. By the time the feast arrived the excitement was palpable in the entire city.

The party was finally in full swing and though Lothiriel did not know all the steps she enjoyed watching the dancers twirling around one another on the dance floor. From her seat on the Great Dias she could watch with ease and without fear of anyone asking for the honour. She was secretly learning the lesser dances favoured by the common folk with Hilda, much to Freawyn's disapproval. None the less, she wanted to be able one day to join in with the dancers, without fear of making a spectacle of herself. Her knowledge of courtly dances was sound but the more intricate common dances were a puzzlement. As the celebrations reached it fourth hour the band struck a melody she recognised. From across the hall she found her friend's eye and the pair shared a secret smile. They had been practicing that particular dance just this morning and were getting pretty good.

Unable to stop herself from getting closer to the group the Queen walked down the few steps from the Great Dias to the Long Aisle. Careful not to walk too close to the gathered, but close enough to watch their feet and the more intricate movements. She wandered the edge of the dance floor, weaving in and out of the wooden pillars that held the structure up and between the vast number of tables littered around the room. From one corner of the room she gained the best view of the dancers and watched delightedly, bobbing to the beat of the music.

Behind her –unbeknownst- two men, intoxicated from ale, had started an argument. What the particular points were, and how one had offended the other was not known. Even those close by had only caught glimpses of their exchange. Very quickly their argument became heated and fists were soon flying. Punch after punch they both swung, though many missed their target due to their inebriated state. Soon they were engaged in an all-out brawl. Hearing the sound of furniture being dislodged and cutlery being knocked over, the Queen turned attention to the fight. She was powerless to stop it and though she didn't put herself in harm's way, Lothiriel was standing in the wrong place at that moment. The two men were grappling with one another and barged into a spectator, who in turn knocked Lothiriel off her feet. She landed on the floor with some force, hitting her head on the corner of a nearby table as she went down. Though not seriously hurt she received a small cut just above her eye.

"Alynian!"

A voice bellowed. The music stopped abruptly and the room became eerily quiet. Eomer had witnessed from a short distance the brawl and had sent Erkenbrand across to throw the men out. As his Marshal walked over, the King watched helplessly as the two drunkards slammed his wife to the ground. A path was cleared swiftly without request, so the King could go to the Queen's side. Onlookers watched with bated breath as he knelt beside her whilst she lay on the floor. Not completely stunned she managed to prop herself up on one elbow. Eomer held his wife's head in his hands and examined the cut, then spoke sincerely.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes I'm fine, though my head hurts a little!" She replied somewhat dazed.

"Do you think you can stand?"

She nodded her reply.

Eomer supported her weight his hands around her waist, as she shakily got to her feet.

"Thank you."

The King looked at her compassionately, directly into her silver grey eyes, they looked weakend by the assault but he could tell though she did not say it she meant her words sincerely. Eomer passed his wife's hand to a nearby steward then turned his attention to the assailants.

Erkenbrand had one of them by the scruff of the neck whilst one of his captains held the other in a vice like grip, the drunks arm twisted up his back. Both men tried to fight off their guards but as their wits were lessened by drink were unable to.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Eomer commanded.

"Forgive me my Lord." The first spoke through slurs.

"You knowingly start a fight in these halls. Then endanger the life of my wife."

The King indicated over his shoulder towards Lothiriel. A seat had been found for her and the curt above her eye was being tended to by Hilda. The Queen's friend had sent for a small basin and was wiping the blood away from the Queen's forehead with a soaked cloth and applying pressure to prevent further bleeding.

"What wife?" The second man asked boldly.

"Quiet you!" The first advised. "No my Lord, never!" He continued to plead.

"What are you so upset about? It's not like she's hurt. She's alright aren't you darling." The second man clearly the more drunk of the two gesticulated to Lothiriel.

"Silence! Erkenbrand take these men to the dungeons." Eomer growled.

"Yes sire."

"No!" Lothiriel protested weakly.

The King turned to look at her a mixture of rage and shock.

The Queen stood from the stool unsteadily and walked the few agonising steps to her husband's side.

"They meant no harm my Lord. I do not want this accident to spoil the rest of the evening. Send them home that will their penance."

"My,"

"Please!" She persisted.

"If you wish." He sighed.

"I do."

"Very well. It will be so."

"Thank you my Lady." The first drunkard professed. "A thousand thank you!"

The pair were dragged from the hall by the soldiers and were quickly followed by their wives. Though no one voiced it, many agreed that what their wives would do with them when they got them home, would be far worse than a night in the cells. The Queen sighed as she watched them leave, more through discomfort than anything else. Eomer sensed her unease and caught her elbows with his hands, fearing she would faint.

"You must rest, Lothiriel." He insisted.

"Now that I'll do."

With her ladies help, Lothiriel walked back up the long aisle and into her apartments. The guest continued the celebrations at the Kings request, however they were much short lived than usual. Before long the invited returned to their homes, most likely to talk freely and openly about the events that night. The excitement of the brawl, the Kings extremely public display of devotion, and shock of the Queens compassion from sparing the men any harm. Though the event had dampened the mood in the evening, the gossipers would still be talking about it for weeks to come. They would say the men knocked the Queen unconscious, the King wrestled the men down himself and from her infirmary bed the Queen pardoned the men any wrong doing. Despite the accident it was a Yule celebrations that no one would forget.

As Eomer went to bed that evening he expected Lothiriel to be in her own room, resting from the ordeal. He wanted to be close to her, to put his own mind at rest rather than hers that she was alright. He retired to their shared chamber knowing that only a short distance lay between them, and if need be he could tend to her during the night. As he entered the shared chamber from his own he closed the door noisily not believing anyone to be in there. Needless to say he was appropriately surprised to find his wife tucked up in bed fast asleep. He tiptoed towards her sleeping form and watched her as he undressed. He was careful from there on to be as quiet as possible and successfully slipped under the covers without waking her. As he laid next to her for the first time in weeks, he let out the breath he had been holding since seeing her there in their bed. No sooner had he done this, he felt his wife move closer to him trying to nudge under his arm. He looked at her from the corner of his eye and lifted his arm voluntarily to allow her access.

"Goodnight." She said sleepily.

"Goodnight." He answered humbly.

Lothiriel nestled into his side resting her hand on his chest and slept there all night.