Notes: I'm sorry this update took so long! I've been in and out of the country which made writing a bit of a struggle. I do hope you enjoy, and I'll try to keep up a consistent update schedule for the rest of the summer!

The weeks dragged long and dull for a princess stuck in a bed. She was at the whim of others to come visit her and there was much to do. Once it was generally agreed that she was on the mend, and not likely to be in further danger she found that her visitors were fewer and further in between and they generally did not stay long. She attempted to shorted the days by sleeping, but then could not sleep through the night for nightmares. At times she attempted to write letters, or see to her numbers and accounting but it was hard. She was used to the management of Dol Amroth, she didn't have as much to do as a guest of Minas Tirith. Even the accounts of their quarters were taken care of, since she was 'indisposed'.

Eventually the monotony was such that she ordered books brought to her about Rohan, Gondor, and whatever could be found on the halfling's land. She studied her Rohirric and her history, she sent letters to anyone she felt could use one, and then, when she ran out of people who she knew personally, she began to write letters to those who had lost children or parents in the battles against the darkness. Those letters certainly had no end.

Gossip began to filter back into the city, fresh and bloody and perfect for her boredom to feed on. She made notes of everything. Rumour was the ring-bearer and his companion were in Gondor, resting, as she was. That was interesting. She asked to meet them but Ioreth had laughed.

"My lady, you cannot even leave your bed. How do you expect to go anywhere?"

Ella had tried to shift herself to standing, only to find the stitches that were keeping her back whole also kept her back tight and stiff. She had tried to ignore the pain until she got to her feet, only to promptly have her legs give out. Ioreth had caught her, and pityingly allow her to begin walking around her rooms with a companion for a couple minutes a day. By the middle of her second week, Ella had worked her way up to about an hour out of bed. Ioreth had promised that the stitches would come out soon. She had warned the Princess not to focus too much on what the skin looked like now.

"It'll heal, Princess. One day, your husband will barely know."

Ella didn't care about her intangible future husband and his thoughts on her skin. She cared about herself, she cared about those she did not want to hurt seeing the mess she had made. She had seen the damage only in passing, when she was washed and the water reflected back the truth, and she could only hope that since then, her back might look rather more whole and rather less like a grotesque sketch of lightning. Ioreth had explained that the arrow heads had broken free from the shafts and the healers had had to cut deep, essentially chasing the arrow heads through her back and find them before they could cause more damage. That was lucky. Lucky and stupid. It still made Ella shudder when she thought of it. She could not think of any other woman she knew who had scars like that. Perhaps Éowyn did. Perhaps the woman on the wall had had her own scars. To be in their company wasn't so bad, was it?

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Ella would wake up and go to the window, lifting up her dress and craning her neck this way and that way to try and see the whole picture. The scar across her nose was thin and pink and bright. When she combed her hair and pinned it back, the scrape on her temple disappeared. She imagined princes and lords from all over Gondor coming to meet her and talking to her father.

"She's still pretty enough, I suppose, of course the dowry will have to be increased."

She imagined her father nodding in his grave, thoughtful way. "Of course. The damage is significant."

And the betrothal being sealed with an extra few pounds of gold and a few extra yards of land.

It made her angry. It made her want to throw things and storm the castle. Instead, she stopped looking into mirror or windows. Her father was a good man who wouldn't auction her off, and he wouldn't care if she looked like an orc. I am more than my skin. Ella devoted herself to her studies.

Faramir came in the late evening, three days before the Rohirrim where set to ride.

"Ella. Ella... are you awake?"

Her candle was more wax than wick at this point, and she grinned at the sound of his voice. Carefully she closed her book and even more carefully she eased herself from the bed and walked gingerly to him, wrapping her arms around her cousin. He did not do the same, wary of any touch that might hurt her. She was getting used to armless hugs.

Faramir went to sit at the edge of her bed, but she stayed standing. It felt good to stretch her legs. She examined her cousin, face to toes. Like her, he had been dreadfully injured but he looked healthy and happy now. The lines she had grown used to seeing on his brow were softening, and he had no beard any longer. She could see he was gaining weight back and his tunic was filling out again, she smiled again and brushed her good hand through his hair. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him, she felt the words wanting to burst out of her. It had been happening almost constantly of late. The battle was won and the future looked clear and there was time now, suddenly, for holding family close.

"Are you all right?"

Along with his healthy frame, Faramir's eyes were bright and his cheeks flushed pink. He might have had a fever, but his eyes were focused and they waited for Ella to settle herself. She had not seen her cousin so happy in years and certainly not since they'd heard of Boromir's death. She shrugged, "I'm fine. Ioreth is going to take out my stitches tomorrow and she promised me juice of the poppy so it should be quite the day. Oh! And I'm walking. Look." She took a couple steps then bowed her head slightly like a player receiving applause as if she hadn't already shown him her new trick.

Faramir grinned at her and stood up suddenly."I wanted to tell you, before you heard from one of your little birds..."

Ella felt her brow burrow and her heart contracted for a moment, hard. Instantly her mind went to the worst case scenario. Was the future King sending her cousin away? She tried not to think of what she would do without Faramir, Éowyn, and Éomer. What it would mean to lose them all in one summer, she would be without true friends once more. Yet, Faramir looked so happy, and she had to remind herself to stop being selfish and let him speak. She forced a smile.

"Éowyn and I are betrothed. I asked for her hand... and she accepted."

What?

The truth was so different from her dark thoughts that she felt for a moment like the world had gone very, very still. Then it rushed back to speed, and she realized that Faramir was at her side, holding her good arm steady.

"I can't tell whether you're pleased or horrified, Birdy."

Ella grinned at him, "I'm having trouble ordering my thoughts, but they seem to be pleased. Delighted, even. I'm very, very, very happy for you. And for Éowyn. And-" She gave him an extra sparkling smile since he still looked concerned and she couldn't stand seeing that on his face, "This gives me a whole celebration to plan. I'll never be bored again."

"You have never had a day in your life where you haven't been restless. A wedding won't change that, though I imagine the halls will be a little less forlorn with your yelling finally ringing through them again."

"Poor Éowyn probably wanted something small and simple. I'm going to disappoint her so completely." She paused for a moment, "I don't yell."

When his eyes came up to hers, they were laughing and she felt her heart rise. Faramir was happy. That was more than she could ever repay Éowyn for and gods knew she owed the girl enough as it was. There was so much to talk about. So much to ask. She fought the sudden urge to take his hand and beg him not to leave her. She smiled around the bitter taste of that thought. "You should perhaps speak to Éowyn before you plan the whole thing for her. She might be happier with your handling it, however. Our customs are different from theirs, and she's worried."

Lothiriel almost laughed, but stopped herself. Éowyn was never worried about petty things and certainly she had no to reason to. She could come to her wedding dressed in a horse's blanket and barefoot and still be the most beautiful woman there.

When she went to visit the bride-to-be the next morning, however, Ella found Éowyn pacing the halls of her quarters. Her back was as straight and tall as ever, but she looked as though the walls of her rooms were seconds from collapsing atop her. "Your court is cold." Éowyn said, when Ella had just barely entered. They were reaching the last hot days of summer, and the keep was hot enough to warrant afternoon naps. Ella said nothing, shrugging her hair back over one shoulder and she found her favourite seat in Éowyn's rooms and curled up. "They'd have me give myself to Faramir by lacing me into stays so I cannot run, and they'll make me hobble my ankles, and tied my own wrists together..."

Ella knew that Éowyn dreamed of cages. Cages that were gilded and large. Cages that were small and cramped and barbed. She saw the rigidity of Gondor's court differently than Ella did. Ella liked playing within the rules. She liked finding ways around what was asked of you. If she could, Éowyn would have left it all behind. Ella examined the other girl for a moment. Is that was love was? Would Éowyn be miserable because once she had been in love?

"We'll have the wedding outside."

That made Éowyn stop for a moment, her eyes sweeping over Ella as if she could not understand if she was joking or not. "Outside? And ruin everyone's shoes?"

"We'll go barefoot."

"Barefoot? You'll spark a riot, Princess."

"No. I'll change things. If Princess Éowyn and Lord Faramir want to marry under open skies, in mud deep enough to swim in, dressed in armour and surrounded by war heroes and their favourite horses, then that is how the court will accept you marrying, mark my words."

Éowyn began to laugh. It start slow, like honey coming out of a jar. Ella was half in love with Éowyn's laugh, how it instantly made the cold girl warm, how it was rare enough that when she managed it, Ella felt like she could move mountains. How she could do it even now that her strong arms and legs were thinning out under her clothes after weeks of 'recovery', and her bones starting to make themselves known. Now that she was turning weak, she could still make a warrior laugh and that made her feel better.

"We'll dance in the rain. Which might make the armour uncomfortable, but perhaps at that point you might consent to a different wardrobe."

Éowyn was still laughing.

"Of course, the mud will make it slippery, so I imagine we'll all be slipping and sliding, but I think a good wedding involves clothing that cannot be made clean again. It's a mark of weddings that is dreadfully under used in favour of pomp and circumstance, which I personally cannot stand."

"I have heard that!"

"It was not always this way." Ella sighed, "But it turns out that hiding from court for weeks will dull your appetite for speeches."

"No speeches at my wedding. No talking at all. Only dancing."

"Only embracing."

"Lots of drinking!"

"Ever more embracing then."

Ella saw that the dark cloud over Éowyn's head was lifting, and hiding underneath was the lovely woman who was in love with her cousin. Truly in love. In love enough to leave her own country for his.

"I won't ever let the two of you be sad, you know."

Éowyn, who had still been giggling turned to Ella and sobered, taking in the ferocity on her friend's face. "Ella..."

"I shan't. Not if it's within my power. I won't let you be sad. I won't let you suffer again. I'll make sure you're happy, the two of you. Whatever comes."

Éowyn shook her head, though she was smiling, and she came to sit with Ella. The princess could see that the Shieldmaiden's eyes were bright and shining, though her face was serious. "You can't fight our selves for us, Lothiriel, no more than the moon or the sun. If we are sad, we will be sad, if we are angry, then we will be angry... And then the mood will pass and another will replace it and we shall all keep moving. Good friends are hard to come by, I would not have you think you had failed because you have loved mortals and mortals are flawed and prone to our moods. You of all people should know that."

"I have no moods." Ella said quickly, and she saw instantly that Éowyn was moments away for laughing again. "I am calm as the storms that come to the seas. I am smoother than the mud fields on which we will dance."

"I would have you no other way, dear princess. And I would have you beside me when I marry."

"I can do that." Ella tried to think of when she would be recovered enough to stand for hours and dance until morning. Would Bride and Groom wait a year? Would they be willing to wait months? Surely Éomer could not return from Rohan within a couple months of leaving, and he could not delay his departure for months until a ceremony could be planned. Éowyn would not marry without her brother. She would figure this out. It was a puzzle and she could sort it. "If I cannot keep you from sadness, then at least let me keep you from worry. I will make your wedding all you wish it to be. I swear it. It will be a day unparalleled in joy."

Ella was fond of promises.