Lothíriel looked about her as they moved across the Mark, nothing but open fields and a few rocks seemed to be around them. It was different than Dol Amroth, which was filled with huge majestic cliffs and shell-pink beaches. Still, she found the Riddermark to be beautiful. The tall grasses danced in the wind, giving the illusion of a golden ocean swaying in great waves over the land. Watching as the land spread out around her, she had the desire to see Rohan in the height of summer, when the grasses would blush green and be dappled about with the swaying caps of flowers.

Dol Amroth changed very little from season to season. The grasses upon the cliffs would dim to a dull grey-green in the fall, and what trees were to be found would shed their fine green manes. Though the biggest change she could think of would be the skies. Dol Amroth in the summer had skies like the eyes of a newborn child, bright, clear blue. In winter it turned a stormy grey, much the same color as sword steel beneath a full moon.

Lothíriel imagined that Rohan changed its robes with each season, and she greatly wished to witness it.

Éomer glanced over to the young princess, seeing her eyes wander over the land. He was sure the sight of the Mark was surprising for one accustomed to the sea. With only a moment's thought, he allowed Firefoot to carry him towards Lothíriel until he rode beside her.

"Wool-gathering?" His voice was pitched so he could be heard, but it still carried a distinct lightness. He was used to having to shout, but then lately he had been riding into battle.

"Simply taking in the sights, My Lord." Lothíriel glanced over towards the king. She noted how familiar he was upon his horse. The massive animal appeared more of an extension of the man than a separate being. She had noticed the same thing in all of the Rohirrim men.

"All this must be quite different from home, all this grass unhindered by shores." He removed his eyes from the princess and set them on the world around him. He had grown up here, with the vast plains of grass that stretched on and on. He tried to picture it from an outsider's view, and thought it must be strange.

"Oh, it is. I have never seen such open fields before, not even in Minas Tirith. Dol Amroth is… though my home rests upon the earth, it is very much apart of the sea. The waters flow into the sandy shores, which flow into Dol Amroth itself. There are caves along the beaches where creatures long ago used to dwell, now they serve as playgrounds for children. Summer brings the warm waters, and everyone takes time to bathe in the sea." Lothíriel looked over to the king with a fond smile. "Though do not mistake my admiration for my home. Rohan may be different, but it is just as majestic."

"You should see it on Midsummer. The Mark is a sea of green grass and soft flowers, and the lights of the bonfires can be seen from every corner." Midsummer had been his favorite since he had been a boy. The days leading up to the fire festival were filled with sweet treats sold in the marketplace. Venders would set up special booths to accommodate the many desserts. The air would be filled with the scent of warm honey and flowers, and hot buttered oatcakes. Then Midsummer day would arrive and the whole of the Mark would be in a frenzy as the bonfires were prepared for the evening. Though he hadn't much appreciated that part of the festival until he had been grown.

"Oh, but that would be lovely to see." She tried to imagine the world around her bright with fire, and she thought it would turn the Mark into a glittering jewel.

"You shall have to return for the feasts." The words were out of his mouth before he had the chance to stop them. He was sure it was improper to ask her directly. In fact he knew it was. The invitation should have gone through her father. They were not acquainted enough for such familiarity.

"I wish that I could. Dol Amroth has its own festival, and after the war I think it would be best if I was present." She smiled slightly as she thought about Midsummer in Dol Amroth. The beaches would be filled with people. The whole place echoing with music and laughter. She would enjoy going down to celebrate without the shadow of war looming over them.

Silence fell between them as they both drifted off into their own thoughts. The desire to see Rohan in all its seasons had Lothíriel wishing that her station were lower. That she could run off without a word or concern and see all that Rohan had to offer.

"The land is so vast here. How long until we near the hunting grounds?" Lothíriel thought to distract herself from the increasingly sad thoughts. Now was not the time for flights of fancy about running off to explore Middle-Earth.

"We shall arrive before nightfall." Éomer gave the princess a small smirk. "Surely you are not growing tired already?"

"Nothing of the sort. I merely wondered how far out we would be traveling." Lothíriel gave a raised brow to the king. The man was nothing like she had imagined. He was a loyal and powerful leader, yes, but the cheek on that man.

"We won't be going as far as we had when I was a child. The war might be over, but Orcs still roam the further out you go." His voice was bitter no matter how hard he tried to conceal it. He cleared his throat when he realized what he had said and to whom. He didn't want the princess believing she was in danger. "Though there is little need to worry, Princess, you travel with the greatest warriors in all of Rohan."

"I'm not worried. My father and brothers are with me after all."


As Éomer had said, just before nightfall they came to a stop. The sun still shone enough for the collection of grasses and dung, but as it would soon set the camp was busy with men moving about setting up tents and building fires.

Lothíriel didn't even bother this time to offer help, just dusted off her leggings and set herself near where the biggest fire was being built. She watched as Gwaedhil slipped down from her horse, biting her lip at the sight. The woman looked as though someone had strapped poles to her legs, she was moving so stiffly. One of the other Rohir men saw her line of sight and gave a soft chuckle.

"It appears as though your handmaiden is not as comfortable as My Lady is on a horse." The man's voice was deep, much more than the King's, and filled with laughter. He sat himself down on the ground beside the princess's feet, his body angled in her direction.

"No, but it is hardly her fault. She was raised in service, taught how to care for a lady and her feminine needs. She has never had need to ride such great distances." Lothíriel ignored how familiar the man acted. During her short days in Rohan she had come to realize how friendly the people were. Strangers drank together just the same as friends would. "In fact most of the time she doesn't sit astride a horse at all."

"If I may ask, how are you so comfortable upon a horse, My Lady? Surely you traveled within that covered contraption as well?" The man's face was pinched when he spoke of the strange wagon that had accompanied the party from Dol Amroth.

"I had, but not out of choice. It would not do for the Princess of Dol Amroth to ride out like a man." She held herself in check, lest she roll her eyes like she desired to. It was bothersome that such restrictions existed. She had grown understanding the need, but had never agreed with them.

"But still you know how?" The man began plucking blades of grass from the ground, twisting and weaving them around as he spoke.

"Aye, though many of my people would think less of me should they know. Still, it was out of necessity that I was first taught. It is a good skill for one to have in the dark times we grew up in. And now… well now I enjoy it. Though I know I am nowhere as skilled as the Rohirrim." She gave a little laugh, though she was anything but bitter.

She had heard many stories of the skill of these people, and the Rohirrim didn't disappoint. She was in wonder at how well they communicated with their horses, at how both man and beast moved as one. Even though the Swan Knights were trained for years, not even they sat with the same ease as the men did.

"I doubt it would take you much, just spend enough time with the King and you will return home in the style of the Rohirrim." Laughing quietly to himself, the man set aside the handful of grass and gave a little bow. Or as much of one as he could while remaining on the ground. "I have occupied your ear for some time now, and have been rude enough not to introduce myself. I am Eothain."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Eothain." Lothíriel dipped her head slightly, following his example and remaining seated.

Eothain smiled at the slight nod of the Princess' head and picked the mass of grasses back up. The woman was truly beautiful, he could see why so many of the men had trouble keeping their eyes ahead of them. He turned and continued his project, unwilling to part from the Princess' presence at the moment.

Lothíriel was quiet for a moment, content to just watch the Rohir weave. She thought back on the past couple of days and a few points that had been bothering her. She was loath to break the silence, but she wondered if he would help. "May I inquire something of you?"

"I shall endeavor to answer whatever you ask." Eothain turned back around, his fingers still working at the blades of grass in his hand.

"I have wondered since I arrived, have women joined the Great Hunt before?" She felt the knot in her chest loosen at the bright smile the man sent her way.

"Yes, though maybe not as many as there had been when our people had been younger." Eothain looked up at the sky as though calling a memory to him. "I remember joining the Hunt when I had been but a small boy. That had been before the King had stopped it. No woman had joined then, but my mother had gone several times when she had been younger. She loves to tell the story of her last Hunt. She had been heavy with me at the time. To hear her tell it, she was a full nine months and had shot a great buck all the while I had been kicking. A desire to join the Hunt, she claimed."

"Is that true?" Lothíriel found herself edging forward, eager to hear any tale Eothain might tell.

"No, she had only been six months along. Still impressive I think." Eothain laughed, his mother was known for her tall-tales. So much so that no one ever believed her when she spoke. His father on the other hand, well he was about as serious as they came. He often wondered what drove them together.

Lothíriel nodded and let out a short breath. It was comforting to know that other women had joined the Hunt. She had been afraid that the King had only invited her along because of her father. Though kind, it didn't sit well with her.

Eothain noticed the look of unease on the princess's face. He had to remember that life was very different where she was from. He doubted many Gondorian women even knew how to hunt, let alone joined their husbands.

"Do not worry, My Lady, your presence is hardly bothersome. I think I can speak for all of us when I say that it is nice to have such a beauty to look upon. Much better than our old king."

"You must charm all the ladies." Lothíriel shook her head. This man reminded her much of Amrothos. She was sure that he had his share of women vying for his attention and his bed. He was the sort of man women loved and he knew it, funny, handsome, and strong. Yet as she watched him weave the small blades of grass into delicate patterns she knew he most likely also had a gentle touch.

"I do my best." Eothain winked with a wicked grin. "Now, just enjoy yourself and try not to worry so much."

Éomer rounded the corner, his arms full of dried grass to fuel the fire. His eyes landed on Eothain lounging casually next to the Princess. He knew how his old friend was around the ladies, and had the Princess not had a smile on her face he would have been worried. Catching his eye he raised a brow at the other man. Eothain just winked again and stood from the ground.

"Well, looks like I am wanted elsewhere, My Lady. I shall bid you a goodnight." Eothain leaned down and took the Princess' hand in his own, kissing the back lightly. He curled her fingers around the woven grass and gave her fingers one last kiss.

Éomer rolled his eyes at his friend's display. Eothain had always been a charmer, though he doubted he would get anywhere with the Princess. He shook his head as Eothain passed him by and patted him on the shoulder. The man had never changed.

"Your men seem so comfortable around you." Lothíriel didn't look up at the king, her eyes focused on the delicately braided circlet of grass. The grass made swirling patterns that flowed into intricate knotwork. It wasn't very large, and would probably fit perfectly on her wrist. With a smile she slipped it over her hand.

"Many of the men joining us were warriors of my eored when I was Marshal." Éomer lowered himself down onto the ground where his friend had just been. "With Eothain though, I've known him all my life. Besides Éowyn and Théodred, Eothain is my oldest friend."

"In many ways life in Rohan is much simpler than in Dol Amroth." She left off her examination of her gift and focused on the man before her.

Éomer looked sharply at the Princess, his brows furrowed at her statement. He sat up straight meaning to ask her what she meant when she shook her hand at him and continued on.

"I don't mean that as an insult. It's just that life in Rohan isn't dictated by court intrigues. And how here a member of the King's family can befriend someone who isn't of noble birth." She sounded sad when she spoke, though she had tried to conceal it.

"Do you not have friends?" Éomer relaxed again, though scolded himself over his reaction. He would have to remember not to jump quickly to conclusions. It had always been a weakness of his.

"I did, once." She found herself running her fingers over the circlet as she spoke. "There was a daughter of one of the noble families that I used to play with. We had been great friends. Sadly she became ill when we had only been twelve. My father wouldn't let me visit for fear of me growing sick myself. She died a few months later. There have been others through the years, but my responsibilities had become great with the death of my mother and I had little time for fun and games." She swallowed back a few tears that threatened to fall. "My closest friends beyond my brothers would have to be my sister-in-law and Gwaedhil."

"Well then, My Lady, I hope you use this time to make new friends." Éomer couldn't imagine the life that she painted. It sounded almost lonely.

"I think I shall, in fact I'm pretty sure I have already made one."


Lothíriel couldn't sleep no matter how hard she tried. She could hear the gentle snores of Gwaedhil in the cot across from hers and she wished she could've rested so quickly. The entire camp had retired to bed early that night after a simple meal, each knowing they would have to wake before the sun to begin the Hunt. She wondered how many of them tossed in their beds as she did.

Growing tired of her restlessness, Lothíriel rose from her cot and wound the heavy fur throw around her shoulders. She slipped from her tent quietly, hoping not to disturb the other woman still sleeping. She hadn't managed to go far before she noticed a figure just beyond the camp. At first afraid of attack, she started to turn towards one of the Rohirrim tents. The glimpse of long golden hair stopped her as she realized that the figure was that of the King.

He stood just a ways beyond the camp, his gaze out towards the Mark. His form was edged in the bright light of the moon, and Lothíriel imagined that he looked like one of the warriors of legend standing there.

She didn't call out to him, and he seemed not to notice her. For a long while she stood there barefoot in the cold dirt and watched the man. When her toes finally began to grow numb she turned and went back to her tent.

She never saw the king turn her way at the sound of her footsteps, or the wet shine of his eyes in the moonlight.


Author's Note: One last chapter for 2016! I wanted to get this out before the end of the year, so here we are. I haven't updated this in awhile because I've been working on getting chapters prepared. I have at the moment up to chapter 10 done, all I have to do if flesh them out and edit them before posting. Before I post chapter 7 I wanted to get 11 and 12 done also. There are actually 19 chapters, so this is all looking pretty good.

Now, enter Eothain, and no I will not be doing a love triangle. It was just as I was writing Eothain decided to remind me he was a bit of a flirt. I thought it was cute to have him make the bracelet, one that probably did annoy Éomer even if he didn't say anything.

Next Chapter: Amrothos is a little shit, first day of the hunt, Éomer makes a couple of kind gestures, story time, Éomer and Lothíriel bond a little more.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.