Technically, Lothíriel had known a time would come she could not go with Éomer when he rode out. Éowyn had once said that the Queens of the Mark had sometimes different duties than their Gondorian sisters – in the King's absence she was his voice, and so there would always be times when she would have to stay behind. Ruling was her concern as much as his, especially when he was away.

Yet even as she knew this on a rational level, it was still difficult to let him go, and the mere idea brought her the feeling of aversion. The southern road had left her with a fear that if she was not with him, something horrible might happen... but it had also made her always look for his hand to steady her, even if her feet were firmly on ground.

She was not alone with the feeling of uneasiness. For as she helped him to get ready, she could feel his eyes on her, following her every move.

"Do you have everything you need?" she asked, having secured the buckles of his breast plate.

"Aye", Éomer replied quietly, but she did not miss the implications in his voice. She sighed and wound her arms about him, trying to tell herself there was nothing to worry about.

"I wish I could come with you", she muttered, resting her head against his shoulder.

"And I wish I would never have to ride out without you. But you have to let me go", he replied in muffled tones. Gently he lifted her chin so that he could see her eyes, "It will get easier with time."

She knew what he meant – the ways they had travelled together, leaning on one another, and finding comfort and faith in each other... the only time he had been gone had been in the middle of Kin-strife, and then the urgency of the battle for the Mark had sustained them both. The young queen did not think those bonds that had grown between them since the south could be severed, but perhaps they could be loosened.

Perhaps they needed to be loosened.

"Just be careful", she told him.

"Of course. I'm convinced Ceolwen will take very good care of me. She makes such a wonderful mother hen, I think she may even surpass Éothain", he told her with a slight smile, which did cheer her up a bit.

After one more embrace and several kisses, he took his helmet and side by side they made their way out. Ceolwen waited outside for the King, and she too was in full gear and ready for the road. She stood tall and rested a hand on the pommel of her sword with the ease of an experienced swordfighter; indeed, Lothíriel could trust this woman to guard her husband.

The young queen escorted her king all the way outside. Down in the courtyard his Riders were ready and waiting for him, and Silfren stood there as well. She could not say she truly understood the relationship between Éomer and the great stallion, but on the other hand she had a feeling no one really did. It was something from an older and stranger world than the one they lived in – a story without words, and an explanation that could not be made.

Before striding down the steps of Meduseld, Éomer turned towards his wife once more. The kiss he gave her was a brief one, for he knew not to prolong it any more than that. She had to fight the urge to grab his hand, remind herself this was a selfish and an irrational reaction, and instead she crossed her arms on her chest.

Éomer went, lifting his helmet upon his head, and mounted Silfren in a swift movement. Ceolwen leaped into saddle as well and moved to his side; on the other was the banner-bearer. The White Horse was once more roaming free in the land of Eorlingas. She knew not what had happened to the standard of two spears, which Feran had used, but she suspected fire had been involved.

Lothíriel's eyes were fixed on her king and so she barely noticed Marshal Elfhelm as the man came to a halt by her side – she had not known he was here too, though of course he would be present to send his wife on her way. Quietly they stood, watching their loved ones depart. The King's Company had started to move and they were heading downhill, and all the while she followed the white horsetail of Éomer's helmet... until at last he disappeared from her sight.

The young queen let out a sigh and only then did she become aware of the lump that had formed in her throat. Elfhelm seemed to sense her mood, as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"I never understood", he spoke in low tones, sounding somehow confused and disbelieving, "I never knew it was so hard. Watching them go and staying behind. I didn't want to let her go."

Lothíriel had to smile at this epiphany, though she felt entirely sympathetic. Before the events before and during the Kin-strife, she would not have guessed she would share such a companionship with Elfhelm.

She turned to look at him then and met a pair of incredulous eyes. Elfhelm spoke again, "And in misunderstanding I also ignored just how brave our womenfolk are!"


Sleep evaded her that night. It felt strange to be all alone in the royal chambers of Meduseld; she kept listening to the silence, which was domineering without the slow, even breathing of her king – the sound which had, in a way, become a lullaby for her. Yearning for his warmth she tried to curl up to forget the feeling of loneliness, but it did not help.

"Damn it", she muttered eventually and threw aside the blankets and sheets. The moon and embers in the fireplace gave enough light for her to dress in a simple gown – she may be queen but she was not going to wander the Golden Hall in her night shift – and find her slippers.

Lothíriel knew Osythe kept some soothing tea in the kitchens, and as she dressed, she decided she'd go and make some for herself. Of course, she could have woken up one of the servants, but it was very late and she did not want to sit in the quiet room waiting for someone else to cater to her whims.

The guards bowed their heads as she exited the royal chambers. One of them would probably have followed her had she not dismissed him. After all, it was unlikely there was anything to warrant a guard trailing her in her own home. Though the Hall certainly looked different at night time than during the day, she was able to make her way to the kitchens without losing her way even once. Now there would have been quite the story: the Queen getting lost in Meduseld!

She did not expect to find anyone else in the kitchens at this time. However, upon entering she noticed a shape sitting by the hearth, singing to himself quietly. For a moment she had to just stand and wonder, as she had not known Elfhelm possessed such a fine singing voice. Then again, she was in the land of the Rohirrim, and while the lords of the realm might be literate, the people were famously singers and poets rather than scholars. The tune was a sorrowful one, though she could not quite make out the words except for the name of a long dead king.

When Elfhelm fell quiet, she approached him.

"That was beautiful. You were singing about Folcwine King?" she asked, making Elfhelm look up from the flames. He was sitting by the hearth and was cradling a mug of ale between his large hands.

"Aye. It is a lamentation he made when he heard two of his sons had fallen in battle. The stories say he never quite recovered from the loss... or regarded his remaining son Fengel worthy of the throne", he replied. She snatched herself a stool and sat by the hearth as well. She considered his words for a while before speaking.

"I know their names are recalled in songs, but... are any of the stories written down in books?" Lothíriel asked carefully.

"Not that I know of. Gondorian scribes may have recorded some tales, but Eorlingas don't write books", Elfhelm answered and reached for more ale. He offered it to her as well, but she refused with soft thanks.

"Is that because you don't see the point of writing down the past, or because you don't have means to do it?" she wanted to know.

"Perhaps it is little bit of both. You see, we do have a written language, but very few use it, and we don't have the kind of scholarly tradition you do", he said and sipped ale from his once more full mug.

"I didn't know you had written language", she commented. The letters she and Éomer had exchanged during their betrothal had always been in Westron; she had still been learning Rohirric then and he had not mentioned his language had a written form. Even if she had known it, she would not have wanted to insult his eyes by mangling his native tongue in letters.

"It is actually quite old, which often surprises our allies in south. Eorl the Young himself was impressed by the uses of written words and he strove to create something similar for our people. Only, like many of his works, completing this fell to Brego King because of Eorl's untimely death. It was a laborious work and took years, but towards the end of Brego's life his trusted man Folca had come up with a way of writing. In theory, Marshals and lords of the realm were supposed to learn to write and read, but in truth few of them did. There were times when the knowledge of writing and reading was almost entirely forgotten in the realm. But then Thengel returned from Gondor, full of southern ideas, and he went to great lengths to make his lieutenants and lords learn. He demanded even the most thick-headed Eorling lord learned to communicate with him in written word. In this day, most of the high nobility are more or less literate, though even the best of us would probably be the common laughing stock in Gondor. All the same, Eorlingas are and do remain a people of songs", Elfhelm explained. His voice was rich and animated and one might have thought he was telling about some great and heroic battle instead of the penmanship among Rohirrim. But then, if she had learned something since she had first met people of this land, it was that Eorlingas were natural storytellers. As a result Lothíriel had listened to his words in deep fascination. She had forgotten completely about the reason of her sleeplessness and why she had even come to the kitchens at this hour.

"That is very interesting", she commented and regarded the Marshal. "Elfhelm... I do not mean to imply I do not appreciate the ways of this land, and perhaps it is very Gondorian of me to ask this, but... do you think a history of Rohan could be written? In Rohirric way and tongue?"

He shrugged as an answer.

"I don't see why not. Even Eorl thought written word has some use. You will have to ask Éomer about this, though I have no reason to believe he'd be opposed to it", Elfhelm answered.

The mention of her husband brought her thoughts back to the present moment. She could not hold back a small sigh, and she couldn't mask it from the man sitting next to her.

"He'll be home soon, lass", he said gently.

"I know. I just wish I could somehow make myself worry less about him... rationally I do know he is perfectly fine, and even if there were some dangers on the road, Ceolwen and the Riders are there with him", she said and looked down on her hands. Then after a moment's silence she glanced at him again, "She's a marvellous woman, your wife is."

Her words made Elfhelm smile and his blue eyes glittered.

"That she is. I remain bewildered that she actually wanted to marry me... I am quite proud of her, because how many men can say that not only their wives are great ladies in their own right, but also ride as the King's Captain?" he said and shook his head, vaguely disbelieving even now.

"I hope it doesn't inconvenience you two too much, that she has all these duties as a captain... I know you and her both would like to move on with your own life", Lothíriel said, her voice soft now.

"Of course we are impatient, but there are some things one has to do, no matter what you feel. That you and Éomer came home is the only reason I'm alive now, and neither myself or Ceolwen have forgotten what it means. Every time I look into her eyes I am grateful. Because of you we have a life. It is only right we help in any way you need. And I have been fighting for this land for too long to just let it fall", Elfhelm said plainly.

"And I am glad that you are."


A/N: My muse is on a mad spree and does not show signs of slowing down. I truly hope he will let me sleep tonight.

I wanted to write something about the first time our horselord and his lady really need to part (I imagine it would not be quite so easy after all this time), but also build up the friendship between Lothíriel and Elfhelm. Also who doesn't like some Rohirric history? Though I must confess, I did make up the part about Rohirrim having a written language. Tolkien says they don't write books but sing many songs; however, I don't think it contradicts canon to suggest that there is a written language, but it's mostly used in communication between the King and his lieutenants and lords.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!


Jo - I would imagine Lothíriel has been learning Rohirric ever since she agreed to marry Éomer. This was not touched in the main story, but I believe he sent someone to Dol Amroth to teach her the tongue. She probably has practiced it with Éowyn and then with Éomer when they were on the road. So, at this point, she is fluent in Rohirric.

Anyway, I'm glad you liked it! :)

Thalia - Yes, there definitely is a good reason why he doesn't have many friends. And yes, Edelric does ride with Éomer now. If you remember the first chapter of this story, there was a conversation between Ceolwen and Éomer that she and Éothain should mentor him to become the next Captain of the Royal Guard after she moves on to her life with Elfhelm.

I think the reason Lothíriel and Ceolwen are getting along so well is because they're both odd birds, if you get what I mean. :) Also I do think while Lothíriel kicking some drunkards around would be amusing, it would be also too much.

Talia119 - I didn't really have much more to say about that story thread, and I didn't mean to delve into it more, but I can say what happened with those drunk fellows. Lothíriel did not recite the full story to Éomer right away (having thought of it, she knew he'd be furious indeed), and by the time those two drunkards had sobered up they realised their mistake. So they came to apologise formally. Even though he didn't yet know the extent of their uncouth words, Éomer was displeased with them. But even then he recognised the two had understood they were wrong to disrespect their queen, and also were brave to show up to apologise. So he let it pass, though he made it very clear if this should occur again, he would not be so understanding.

Lothíriel did tell him the full tale after they had come home, but only when she had him tied up (whether that was figuratively or practically, you decide ;) ). I can say it was quite an interesting night in Meduseld.