Chapter 9

By the time there was a knock on her door, Lothiriel had already bawled out her eyes.

She had ran straight to her room and not emerged since, not even for dinner. Firstly, the mere idea of food made her sick. Secondly, there was no way she could face Éomer after the angry scene in the royal study. So she had curled up in a ball on her bed and cried some more like some pitiful thing. She had never felt more homesick.

But now a sound finally interrupted her miserable musings and she lifted her head a little bit. For a second she thought of not answering. Let them think she was asleep. However, that would just be an entirely new level of pathetic.

"What is it?" she croaked and immediately grimaced at how hoarse she sounded.

"May I come in?" Éowyn's gentle voice asked from behind the door.

Lothíriel hesitated for a minute. What if Éowyn too meant to trash her? She couldn't take both her friends' anger. The worst thing was not that she had made a mistake, it was the fact she had disappointed Éomer. If Éowyn felt that way, too... well, she might as well pack her bags and go home.

On the other hand, Éowyn's voice was nothing but kind. She owed it to her to at least let her come inside.

"All right", she managed, though her voice faltered. Unable to meet the eyes of her friend, Lothíriel hid her face in the soft wool of her blanket.

The door opened and there were soft steps on the floor. Then she could feel someone hovering over her. A hand descended on her arm as Éowyn sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Why didn't you come to dinner?" Éowyn asked softly.

"I wasn't feeling hungry", Lothíriel answered and kept her face firmly planted in warm, comforting wool.

Her friend was silent for a moment. Then she let out a sigh and she rubbed Lothíriel's arm gently.

"I am not angry with you, Lothíriel", she said at last.

"You're not?" the younger of the two asked in surprise, though she did open her eyes and lift her head a little bit. Éowyn smiled sadly.

"Of course not. Your help will allow us to save lives", she simply said.

Lothíriel blinked. Her mind moved slowly thanks to the haze left by too much crying and just feeling generally miserable. So her friend continued to talk.

"My brother told me everything. It's what you've been trying to tell me, isn't it? Ever since the night we got the news?" Éowyn asked.

She could only nod. She still didn't understand why Éowyn wasn't yelling at her, too.

Her friend seemed satisfied.

"I should have known. The way you appeared in the royal study... but I see how it can be intimidating to open your mouth. Like I said, I'm not angry. The only thing I am is thankful. How soon do you think the goods will arrive?" Éowyn said and eagerness rose in her voice. There was a glimmer in her eyes that had been gone more often than not these past couple weeks.

"I don't know. Before today, I wasn't even sure if my father would allow it to happen. But if King Elessar's messenger had travelled to Dol Amroth and back and then word was sent here, I think the shipment may already be in Minas Tirith", Lothíriel said uncertainly.

Éowyn smiled brightly.

"That is wonderful. In that case, it won't be long before your shipment arrives", she said and squeezed her friend's arm. "Thank you, Lothíriel. You have done a good thing."

"Your brother did not seem to think so", said Lothíriel. Her throat felt tight once more and she swallowed against tears that threatened to rise again. She recalled his flaming eyes and the memory cut deep like a knife.

The White Lady grimaced and then let out a sigh.

"You mustn't feel too bad about it, Lothíriel. He'll come around once he has had a chance to cool down a little bit", she said and patted her arm.

"I didn't think he'd get so angry", Lothíriel whispered and bit her lip. It had been a terrible thing to see, and she felt like she could now understand his reputation as an intimidating warrior in an entirely new light.

"My brother can be a complicated man sometimes. He's not used to needing or asking for help. What you did took him by surprise and it didn't sit well with him... you see, it's a little bit of a fixation for him, this need to make it through his first year of being a king, like it was meant for him to suffer alone. He gets so stubborn about it. And I suppose it's because of his pride, too", Éowyn explained gently. It made sense now that her friend put it into words, but understanding didn't mean Éomer's outburst did not hurt.

"Having said that", Éowyn continued, "I do wish you had told us sooner."

Lothíriel groaned and rubbed the side of her face.

"I know. And I meant to tell you at once. But I got so nervous and I didn't know how to explain myself... I was so desperate to do something to help. I couldn't stand just sitting idly while you and Éomer were working so hard and people were suffering", she muttered. Yes, she could see her own folly so clearly now. What a blotched mess she had made of it!

Éowyn listened to her quietly and nodded when she finished.

"You had no obligation to do anything, and yet you did. That is a compliment to your character that cannot be undermined by how you went about it. Lothíriel, you are young and unused to this kind of a thing. Few of us are natural at leadership. Don't be too hard on yourself", said the White Lady and then she rose again. Smoothing down her skirts, she added, "I'll talk to Éomer and tell him apologise. He shouldn't have lost his temper like that."

"It's fine. You don't have to -" Lothíriel began, but Éowyn raised a hand to interrupt her.

"No, I insist. You are our friend and guest, and he should at least have given you a chance to explain", she said firmly, silencing all objections. But even as Lothíriel sank down, Éowyn smiled a little.

"I'll send you a plate from the kitchens. Try and eat a little bit, and then get some rest. We'll get back to business tomorrow", she said, and after they had bid each other good night, Éowyn left again.

Lothíriel pressed her face again in the blanket. While her heart was still sick, her mind was a little bit calmer.

At least she still had one friend here in Meduseld.

Lothíriel had never felt more nervous about breakfast as she did the next morning. Éomer would be there and she would have to face him. How could she look him in the eye and not think of what had happened in his study? What if he was still angry with her?

Yes, maybe it was cowardly. But she had never been yelled at like that, and least of all by someone she loved and admired. She could not have imagined how much it hurt to lose the regard of someone so important. And Éomer was truly an intimidating man when he got angry.

Even Hild noticed her fidgeting when she was helping her to dress. The girl didn't seem to buy her excuse when she claimed she had just slept poorly, but at least she didn't pursue the matter.

When they were ready, Lothíriel sent Hild on her way and stepped outside, too. She didn't feel particularly hungry: in fact, the sheer idea of entering the hall made it feel like her stomach was full of stones. She bit the insides of her cheeks and pressed her nails into the palms of her hands. Prince Imrahil's daughter should not be this meek and fearful.

After a few deep breaths, she decided she was as ready as she was ever going to be. So she began to move and thus entered the great hall of Meduseld, where folk were already breaking their fast. Almost at once she saw that her dread had been in vain: Éomer was not at his table. She had already learnt that if he was not present at this time, he was unlikely to make an appearance at all.

Despite herself she felt relief. She didn't have to confront him yet.

Éowyn was present, though, and Lothíriel went to take seat next to her. A part of her would have liked to ask about him, but she held her tongue.

"Feeling any better?" Éowyn asked softly.

"A little bit", said the younger of the two women. She kept her eyes on her plate, though her appetite was not quite as improved as one might hope.

"Don't worry about anything, my friend. Even if my brother insists on being a stubborn fool right now, he will come around. If not sooner, seeing your shipment arrive should at least change his mind", said her friend in encouragement.

Lothíriel made a non-committal sound and tried to drink a little bit of tea. It was tasteless in her mouth, but for Éowyn's sake, she drank and ate some. She wasn't sure it fooled her friend, but at least the White Lady said nothing.

Once they had both finished eating, Éowyn looked at her with a slight smile.

"Are you up for a lesson this morning?" she inquired. "We have had too little time for them as of late."

"And for a good reason, as one may recall", Lothíriel noted gravely. She managed to conjure a smile at length and went on to add, "But a lesson does sound like a good plan. Let me just go and fetch some things from my room."

"I'll see you in the solar", Éowyn said, wiping her hands on a napkin as she stood up.

Lothíriel visited her chamber quickly, picking up her notes and a few books from her tiny desk. The prospect of a lesson was welcome. It would give her something else to think besides the throbbing ache in her chest that felt like a sore wound.

Once she had everything she needed, Lothíriel turned around and began to make her way for the Queen's solar.

She was approaching the door of the solar when voices from inside had her halting. It sounded like some kind of an argument. At once, she recognised the low timbre of his voice, even though she couldn't make out the words.

Éowyn's heated response was harder to miss.

"... how stubborn must you be? You know her better than that! It was not condescension that made her act, but compassion!" the White Lady half-shouted. Heat spread across Lothíriel's cheeks. Abruptly she was regretting that she had ever started learning Rohirric.

Thankfully, he was still speaking low enough so that she did not hear what he said. After yesterday, she could not handle any more of his criticism.

"You are a rotten fool, brother!" Éowyn was saying now. Frustration could not be clearer in her voice. "Fine, go on acting like a prideful idiot, then. But don't come crying to me when you realise what mistake you made in ruining your friendship with her!"

There was a sound of commotion inside and Lothíriel ducked behind the corner. She hid herself just in time: there was the sound of a furious horselord storming by. She could only see his back as he went, straight and rigid like a crowbar. Not facing him in the corridor surely felt like she had just dodged a javelin to chest.

The door of the solar was wide open when she tiptoed inside. Éowyn was seated and had her face in her hands, but she looked up when she heard movement. The weary look on her face first shifted to a fierce expression like she had expected her brother to return for another bout of argument, but it melted into a sheepish smile.

"How much did you hear?" she asked in embarrassment.

"Too much", Lothíriel said. Her cheeks still felt hot.

"I'm sorry. I... I had asked him here before. I meant to make him apologise to you, but... you can see how well that went", Éowyn said and shook her head.

"Best not to poke a bear when it's already in a mood", Lothíriel said delicately. Her heart was still racing in her breast.

"Quite. I suppose I got too impatient... he needs his time simmering down. It's always been like that since we were children. He doesn't hold a grudge, but sometimes he's just slow to calm down", said the White Lady. She let out an exasperated sigh.

Then she looked at her friend, who was hovering nearby, still anxious over the conversation she had overheard. Éowyn managed to smile, "I hope you don't feel very upset. We can skip the lesson, if you'd like."

"No, no. I think it's just what we both need right now", Lothíriel insisted and sat down, spreading her notes and books before her.

"I really am sorry about this, Lothíriel", Éowyn said softly. Her fair features were twisted in a look of concern and her hands fidgeted at the sleeve of her gown.

"It's all right. It's my own fault for keeping you and him in the dark. I should have remembered that warriors rarely like surprises", Lothíriel said firmly and opened her books. She looked straight at her friend. "Now, do you feel like hearing about the early history of the House of Dol Amroth?"

Éowyn smiled and relaxed a little bit.

"Of course. Lead away, my friend!"

Lothíriel was not certain what she hoped for: a quick resolution to the fallout between her and Éomer, or a way for them to avoid one another until the matter was forgotten. But as it happened, the matter was taken out of their hands that very same day.

After their lesson, Éowyn suggested they take a long ride out to the plains and perhaps visit the village of Snowford near the river. It seemed like a wonderful idea, and so the two women dressed warmly and headed outside. A few guards, her Swan Knights among them, came along as escorts.

The first leg of the journey they made in swift gallop, allowing their horses to let out some steam. Éowyn noted soon enough that Lothíriel sat differently in saddle; her posture seemed easier but also more grounded. The younger of two women blushed and lowered her eyes. It didn't feel right to mention him at this time, even if the change was because of the advise he had given to her when they had gone out riding together.

She muttered something under her breath and tried to speed up her mare, although the poor sweet animal could not compete with Éowyn's Windfola. Either way, her friend did not pursue the topic and for a while, they rode forth in silence.

It was not a long way from the capital to Snowford. The village was tiny compared to Edoras, but it seemed prosperous and the folk living there had a wealthy look about them. Upon the company's arrival, people were quick to come and greet the White Lady. A few curious looks were thrown at Lothíriel's direction, but Éowyn was quick to introduce her to the folk.

They had a rather good time that afternoon, meeting and talking with the villagers, drinking hot cider that was brought to them by a pair of giggling girls, and buying a couple little trinkets from local craftsmen. Lothíriel even forgot about what had happened with Éomer. No doubt it was just what her friend had hoped for.

Not wanting to ride back in the dark, they turned back when the afternoon was starting to grow older. Their horses having rested, the two women and the escort galloped back to towards the capital, glimmering softly in late afternoon's light. It hit Lothíriel then, the thought of how beautiful Rohan really was, and Edoras especially. Some ladies back in south, who had accompanied the great entourage of King Elessar for the funeral of Théoden King, had complained and said this was a dull land of nothing but grass and sky. But she thought there was so much more. The heavens above looked different every day and there was a sense of freedom to the grass-plains she had only ever felt at the shores of the sea. For her, openness was never dull. And the people! She could sing songs about the warmth and welcoming way of Rohirrim, and how they laughed heartily and did not hide their tears. These were a folk who celebrated being alive.

And then there was him. Just as savage as the mountains and wild lands, or as gentle and warm as summer; the keen and resilient light burning at the heart of Rohan itself. Even after feeling the brunt of his temper and pride, she couldn't resent him for it. They were simply a part of who he was.

Maybe that was also the key to reconciling. She couldn't spend the rest of her time in Rohan trying to avoid him. Neither could she stand the idea of him thinking of her as a thoughtless child who considered herself better than him and his people. On the other hand, how could this be resolved if he did not want to make it right?

Her thoughts came to a close when they were a little under a mile away from the capital. A line of riders were streaming out of the gates of Edoras and at the very front, she could spot the royal standard being carried.

Éomer had left Edoras.

There was something almost burning to what Lothíriel felt while watching the King and his Company ride away. She could not name it, but it was akin to disappointment and betrayal, and yet there was also something regretful. Did he owe her anything, in the end?

On the other hand, she had thought they were friends.

She did not speak on their way back to Edoras. If she did, she might start crying. Éowyn would probably not understand it, especially because she didn't know about her feelings for Éomer. And right now, Lothíriel was not in an explaining mood.

Once they reached Meduseld, she uttered something about needing to take a bath, and so hurried up the steps to the Hall as soon as a stable-hand had grasped the reins of her mare. Lothíriel could feel Éowyn's eyes following her all the way to the twin doors. She felt badly about appearing as though Éowyn's attempts to cheer her up had not been effective. It was all his stupid doing, with his stupid stubborn pride and stupid wrong assumptions and she was going to cry again like a silly little baby.

But when the bath had been drawn for her and she was submerged in hot water nearly up to her nose, her mood became slightly calmer and her thoughts a little less tumultuous. Maybe she was over-thinking this and exaggerating her own importance in his affairs. The world did not stop and neither did Rohan at anyone's convenience; perhaps something urgent had happened and he had needed to ride out post haste. Still, it would have been nice of him to leave some word.

She sunk even lower in the tub, so that only her eyes were above water, and blew out a frustrated little stream of bubbles. Men! Why hadn't anyone told her how confusing and infuriating they were? If only she were someone older and wiser and more confident... then surely she'd give him a run for his money. But she wasn't those things, and that was why Éomer would not tell her he was sorry about their confrontation, or leave her some message, or feel like she did about him.

Lothíriel took a deep breath and dipped her head under the water completely.

A few days passed and Lothíriel was keen to fill her hours with things to do. This was not particularly difficult. There were lessons with Éowyn and time spent with her, or Hild and Lady Scýne. The two seemed a little surprised when Lothíriel asked them to teach her some of the handicrafts of Rohirrim; little did they know how learning these new skills were helping her to stay distracted. She also took up the task of recording songs and tales and poems of Rohan – no small or easy thing, considering her Rohirric was not yet fluent. But she was glad to let it consume her time and mind as she chased after willing informants and struggled to improve her grasp on the language of Rohan.

However, no matter how much she tried to keep her mind occupied, at night she was defenceless. And so he came to her when she was curled up in bed, and she could not fight back the memory of his anger and biting words. Somehow, it was all the worse after the way he had just left without a word. Clearer than ever, she was convinced that he'd never care about her as much as she did about him. And though this came not as a revelation to her, it just hurt so much.

The seventh day of his absence brought another distraction to Edoras: Lord Déorwine stopped her in the courtyard of Meduseld. He was smiling brightly as he bowed and greeted her. When she curtsied and responded, she thought of how easy it was to get along with him and how uncomplicated he was compared to someone.

"My lord Déorwine, what brings you to Edoras at this time?" she asked him.

"I'm making some reparations and renovations at my hall, and so I came here to meet local craftsmen and merchants. Edoras has a bit wider range in that regard, you see", he said, though his words did make her wonder if he would have bothered to come himself if she was not here. But then, was that a bad thing? It was nice to be wanted.

"It seems a long way to travel", she said, nevertheless.

"I suppose. But I don't mind, as life back at my village can get so slow and quiet. And my cousin lives here in Edoras. She has two little ones and is expecting the third, so she doesn't mind having some adult company besides her husband", Déorwine explained. Something eager appeared in his grey eyes as he went on to add, "In fact, she asked me to invite you for tea, my lady. She has been dying to meet you."

"It would be my pleasure, Lord Déorwine", Lothiriel answered, much to his joy. His smile was positively beaming.

And so it was in the same afternoon that Lothíriel found herself seated in the kitchen of Lord Déorwine's cousin. The household was as anywhere in Edoras, with lots of carved wood, well-used furniture, and rich colours abound. The lady of the house, a woman named Haelana, was not much like her cousin from Harrowdale, though they had same eyes and mouth. Her manner was lively as she chattered away and minded her two children. One was but a toddler who seemed to be everywhere at once, and the older one, a girl of perhaps four summers, seemed permanently glued to her mother's skirts. The little girl stared at Lothíriel with wide blue eyes until she piped in a small voice: "Is she a princess, Ma?"

"I daresay she is, darling", said Haelana and let out a bell-like laughter before ushering her children into a bedchamber. Lothíriel wondered if they were really in the need of a nap, or if Haelana just wanted to get out of her cousin's way.

"A charming girl, don't you think?" Lord Déorwine said warmly after the door had closed.

"Indeed", Lothíriel said and lifted her ceramic cup between her hands. The dish was sturdy, green earthenware that felt comforting in one's grip. She blew softly into the steaming liquid inside.

"I hope you don't mind me observing", he said after a moment of silence, "Are you quite well, my lady? Even before, I thought you are a little pale."

She offered him a smile.

"No, I'm perfectly well. I suppose this colder weather just takes time adjusting to, is all", she said with a gentle shake of her head. They were not good enough friends for her to fill his ears with her heartache, and in any case, Lord Déorwine probably did not want to hear her venting about another man.

"It must be quite different from Dol Amroth. You don't get snow there, yes?" he asked her and she saw that same eager glint in his eyes that always appeared when Gondor was somehow mentioned.

"No, we don't. Which is why I actually look forward to winter proper here in Rohan", Lothíriel answered.

"You'll see plenty of it before the year turns. Though there's actually more of it on the mountains, and at the very top, it never melts. You should come visit Harrowdale in winter, my lady. It's quite lovely there, if you like a cold season", he said and poured himself some more tea. He offered the pot to her too, but she declined.

"Hmm. Perhaps I will ask Lady Éowyn if we could travel there. Though I don't know if she can be much away from Edoras while the issue remains", said Lothíriel. Lord Déorwine nodded gravely; he didn't need explaining what issue she meant.

"Well, you and the White Lady are most welcome, if you decide to come", he said emphatically.

"I shall keep it in mind", she said with a small smile.

He considered her a while over the rim of his cup and his grey eyes were thoughtful. The keen look of his eyes made her feel a little awkward.

"My lady, do tell me if I'm being too quizzical, but may I ask what you intend to do when you go back to Gondor?" he asked her, and his question rather took her aback. At first, she didn't know what to answer.

"I don't really know. To tell you the truth, I haven't given it much thought", she admitted at last and stared at her tea, still steaming gently. Spring seemed so far away, and going home was but a distant prospect. She couldn't even imagine what it would feel like to go back to Dol Amroth after her long stay in Rohan. Well, one thing she knew for sure: she would miss him so much.

"So you will return to Dol Amroth, then?" asked Lord Déorwine as he leant back in his chair.

"I expect so. It should be nice to spend some time with my family after being parted from them for so long", Lothíriel said with a small shrugh of her shoulders.

"It seems a pity, though. Come the spring, there won't be another Gondorian who is as well-informed in the matter of Rohan as you, my lady", he pointed out. It made her blink; she had not thought of it from that perspective.

"Well, I don't expect to know more than King Elessar. He lived among Rohirrim a number of years at a time", she said carefully.

"Yes, but how long has it been since then? Things may have changed, and he has his own worries in Gondor", Déorwine remarked. "But even so, all I am saying that it would be a pity if your kinsmen and the lords of Gondor disregard your insight to the current events of Rohan. Diplomats have been trained with less."

Lothíriel almost snorted out loud. Her, a diplomat? What an idea! But then as she considered it, she had to admit that already her functions here could be defined so in some regards. Had that been her father's intention all along?

"I suppose time will show", she said at length and sipped her tea. "In any case, spring is still months away and I'd rather focus on what's happening right now."

"Even so, you are a bright young woman, my lady. I hope the people in your life know that", Déorwine said seriously.

Lothíriel lowered her eyes in embarrassment. Being complimented by unrelated men still felt strange. Briefly she wondered if he only said so because he wanted to appease to her. But then immediately she felt mortified at her own thoughts. Just because Déorwine had proposed to her and probably still hoped to win her over did not mean that he wasn't sincere.

"Thank you for your words, my lord. You are most kind", she managed to speak before draining the rest of her tea.

For whatever reason, the day had left Lothíriel feeling mentally spent, too weary for interactions with other people. So she retired early and sought solace in writing letters for her family back in Dol Amroth. When she had sealed and readied them for sending, she picked up the bridal shift she was making for Éowyn and tried to focus on the intricate embroidery.

However, soon enough her mind began to wander and she found herself thinking of Lord Déorwine again. Lothíriel put aside her needlework, not wanting to ruin her hard work while her thoughts were not in it. She sighed and pulled her knees close to her chest as she thought about the dark-haired horselord. She couldn't deny it: Lord Déorwine had his good qualities. His temper was mild and his manners always collected. She knew where she stood with him and was certain life as his spouse would be easy and quiet. Not to mention, she suspected he was physically incapable of getting angry at her over anything.

On the other hand, it probably also meant he could never feel passionately, either. And now in a moment of realisation it dawned to her how much she wanted that very thing. She wanted to feel it in herself and for the man she took to her lover and husband. The thought made her shiver and something anxious shifted in her belly. But she was quick to smother such notions with a healthy dose of realism. For a woman of her status, daydreams of love unions were just that: daydreams. She had grown up knowing eventually her father would pick a suitable companion for her, and that day she would do her duty.

But couldn't that companion be the King of Rohan himself? It might be easier than she thought – after all, she was the daughter of one of the greatest lords of Gondor, and Father admired Éomer a great deal. The thought was tempting. But in her heart she knew it simply couldn't be an option. Maybe Éomer did not want an arranged marriage. The price for few moments of bliss would be too heavy to pay, for she couldn't even think of living years and years as Éomer's wife and desperately waiting for any scrap of affection he might throw at her. Eventually it would kill her. And she could not put him in that position, either. One so decent would only feel guilt and perhaps pity for his adoring wife, and he deserved the opportunity of choosing a wife he wanted and loved.

She brushed hands against her eyes, trying to wipe away the sting in them. Yet maybe it was better to be in pain now that spend years hurting because the man she loved would never feel the same for her. Maybe it just was healthier for her to face the truth now rather than grow bitter after a lifetime of disappointment. And while she did not have the wisdom that age and experience brought, she surmised that security was better than high but brief passion.

At least with Lord Déorwine, she knew she was in no danger at all.

After a morning's lesson, Éowyn's expression was one of surprise and doubt when Lothíriel said she was going to go out and seek for the Lord of Harrowdale. She guessed her friend was thinking of their conversation on the night of the Harvest Feast, and so she was quick to add: "I haven't forgotten your advice. What I did not realise at the time was I might have to worry about my own heart, too. And Lord Déorwine is not likely ever to break it."

After that statement, she picked up her things and made way outside very quickly. She did not look back to see her friend's expression.

When an hour or so later Lothíriel came across Lord Déorwine and asked to accompany him to his business at the markets, he looked pleasantly surprised. He agreed readily, as though thinking that even a moment's hesitation might change her mind. And so, as Éowyn was busy back in Meduseld, Lothíriel dressed warmly, put on her sturdy boots, and went on to meet the Lord of Harrowdale in the courtyard. He was smiling brightly as he offered her his arm, which she took silently.

Déorwine chatted away as they made way for the markets, happily filling the silences when she didn't know what to say. He was an easy companion, level in his mild, slow moods. A critical voice rose inside, pointing out it wasn't what her heart desired. But she was quick to smother the thought. One could learn to live with, even love, if one tried enough.

The afternoon was pleasant enough. Déorwine took her around the markets, introducing her to people she had not yet met, explained her how this or that thing was done, and supplied her with translations when they were necessary. During that day, she learnt more about Rohirric craftsmanship than ever before in her life. More than once he asked whether she liked some piece of furniture or clothing. One might think he was renovating his hall her in mind specifically, which she guessed was at least his hope.

He was keen to notice when she began to wear down and took her to a local tavern – finest in Edoras, as he boasted upon entering – and quickly ordered them some hot cider. Lothíriel was grateful to wrap her cool, stiff fingers around the warm mug. The homely feel of it was comforting, just as the tavern around them. It was a spacious room, a proper hall in fact. Furniture was sturdy and well-made, with intricate carvings here and there. Rugs and pelts were thrown over long benches, and several parties were seated around tables. A mighty hearth had a fire going and a big cauldron was bubbling over it, spreading a hearty smell in the tavern. Lamps and candles spread warm light, but she noted they were not lit in full capacity: enough daylight streamed inside still. A young maiden with long, flaxen braid served ale while a tall, bearded man observed proceedings behind what seemed to be the counter at the other side of the common room. Lothíriel had never been to a Rohirric tavern but if they all were like this, she decided they were quite agreeable. An errant thought came: she wouldn't mind visiting one with him.

"Feeling any warmer?" asked Déorwine, smiling as he spoke. The beginnings of a daydream she had got died right there.

"Yes. This is delicious", Lothíriel answered and sipped the heated liquid carefully.

"I agree. I don't much care for ale, but cider in these parts is commendable", he said and took a mouthful of his own drink. He looked at her curiously, "Do you have anything like this in Dol Amroth?"

"I believe the common folk have similar drinks as ale and cider, but it's rare to get either in my father's court. He has always preferred wines – and sometimes he'll serve brandy to guests", she answered, recalling the lush vineyards inland that produced wine for the whole realm. Herself, she much liked the white wines made in the sunny vales. But the fair beaches of Belfalas were far away and she'd better not think of them.

Déorwine let out a sigh of longing.

"How fortunate you are. It's rare to get wine here – there are no vineyards in Rohan, as our climate is not mild enough for them. And one could spend a fortune trying to buy and ship some from Gondor. As you probably know very well, these past few years have been hard on all trade between our realms", he said with a shake of his head.

"Well, I think it should get easier sooner or later. The Great West Road will be better watched when less men are needed to defend the borders both here and in Gondor. And I have heard the King speaking of the Dimholt Road as a possible new route to south", Lothíriel said and ignored the sting that came with the thought of him. Indeed, she had heard mentions of the old, previously haunted pass through the mountains to Morthond Vale. King Elessar had journeyed that way and taken the phantoms with him, leaving it open for the living. It would shorten the journey to southern Gondor considerably.

Lord Déorwine received this information with eager nods. Holding the seat of Harrowdale, he would be one who would greatly benefit from the opening of Dimholt Road, both personally and generally.

"That would be a wonderful thing, truly. Not just for trade but for the friendship between our peoples. And the journey from here to Dol Amroth would be much easier, too", he pointed out delicately.

"Yes, it is very promising", Lothíriel said quietly and took a long sip of her cider again.

After they had finished their drinks, Déorwine insisted on escorting her back to the Golden Hall. She agreed to it and soon they were hiking uphill to Meduseld. Hot cider had warmed her up and lightened her mood, and so the conversation was pleasant enough, if a bit superficial. But he seemed to enjoy it a great deal, as though any bit of cordiality from her was treasured by him.

They halted at the bottom of the stone steps leading up to Meduseld. Lothíriel glanced up and wondered if Éowyn would be cornering her when she went inside. Would the White Lady think her frivolous? The idea horrified her. She wished she could explain this all to her friend. But in the end, what could she say? All her heart's misgivings were perhaps too delicate to reveal.

"Thank you for joining me today, my lady. It was very amiable indeed", he said, bowing at her.

"The pleasure is all mine, my lord", she replied and curtsied in turn.

Before she could say anything else, he suddenly picked up her hand and pressed his lips against her knuckles. She was so taken aback, she almost jumped away from the contact. But realising what an impact such reaction would have, she was able to stand still.

"Until we meet again, my lady Lothíriel", he murmured before straightening himself again.

And even as he turned to take his leave, her gaze was drawn to the royal stables, and her eyes locked with a pair of dark, piercing eyes. At once, she knew that Éomer, only just returned from his errand, had seen the whole scene.

For whatever reason, her heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach.

Bright morning's light streamed inside the Queen's solar. It gilded the surface of the table before Lothíriel, as well as her books and the neat pile of notes. The family tree of the Stewards of Gondor was topmost. It traced all the way back to Cirion, which was where space on the sheet had ended. She supposed it was fitting, in a way. What would Cirion and Eorl say if they knew that one day, their Houses would be united by their descendants?

Lothíriel had never envied Éowyn, but now she did, even if at the same time she was ashamed to feel such a thing. Her friend deserved all the happiness in the world. She deserved to have the love of Faramir, a man few could match. And yet how she yearned for that same faith and certitude her cousin and friend had in each other!

She glanced at the door, hoping that Éowyn would arrive soon. She didn't want to be alone with these thoughts. Like a coward, she ached to go back her bags and go straight home. Perhaps there, things would seem clearer.

In frustration she rubbed her face. Such loathsome, craven thoughts! She was better than this. And yet after these past few days, her head was so full of everything and her heart so heavy to bear. How was she ever going to make it to spring? And how could she endure him, in all his fierce, unattainable glory? There were a million things she wanted to tell him and yet she knew it was just better to keep her silence. She had to let him go, let him be free. Maybe that way, she could one day be free of him, too.

At last, she could hear steps behind the door, and then it opened.

It was not Éowyn who came inside. Instead, there stood the King of Rohan himself.

To be continued.

A/N: I did love this chapter, because being inside Lothíriel's head proved such fun! She's so clueless and she's so young, and all her reasonings are based on the idea that Éomer will never love her. So she lands with the idea that at least with Déorwine, her heart is safe.

The second reason for me loving this chapter is because it will be just delightful from Éomer's point of view in Walk With Me In Winter. There, I mean to show his thoughts considering their fallout and the reason he left so abruptly. I hope it will provide an essential addition to this chapter!

As ever, thank you for reading and reviewing!

sai19 - I can't help it - I just love a cliffhanger every once in a while!

I think the essential wrong in her actions is not telling her friends. And that's why they get angry, too.

I hope you liked this chapter, even if it did not see the reconciliation!

WaxingintheDark - Thank you very much! That is the tone I more or less am attempting to create, this slow movemetnt from winter to spring that is in their characters.

Like you said, conflict is needed indeed, as it will help them to figure out a lot of things!

EStrunk - I'm afraid he was a little bit too stubborn place before he could really get a talking from Éowyn!

I think Éomer would have some very serious riding skills, considering who he is and how he has spent half his life horseback. But this is another thing that will be discussed in the companion story!

Anon - I'm afraid he has his own stubborn views to work through first! But we'll see hos things go now. :)

Cricket22 - Here is a new chapter! I'm glad you liked the bit with mearas, and I'm afraid Déorwine is not going to go away yet! Either way, your comment is much appreciated!

Hobbitpony1 - I liked it very much as well! She's not having the best time, indeed!

Wtiger5 - Wounded pride is surely a part of it, but it's not just the only thing! He has his reasons and I hope to explain it, both in this story and more in depth in Walk With Me In Winter (which you can find at my profile).

Catspector - I imagine it was difficult for her to receive his cricism. But both of them meant well, and maybe they'll realice that eventually!

frank . kilgenschmidt - Thank you! :) I try to leave the stories at a point that makes the reader want to pursue the next part, after all!

As for your question/wondering, there's both her own thoughts inside the story, and also my own response: it's not that Lothíriel doesn't know their ranks are compatible and a union could be easily arranged. But she's enough of a romantic at heart to want him to choose her because of herself, and like she muses to herself at the beginning of the chapter, she doesn't think that can ever happen. Moreover, she feels that the initiative should have to come from him, because it seems more appropriate (him being royalty and all) and very much because she's young and doesn't have an idea of how to approach a male with the intention of proposing to him. After the events of Harvest Feast and Éowyn's warning, she's probably even more uncertain about how to handle such a situation. Even if she did know how to go about it, there's also the matter of her insecurity: she's afraid it would ruin their friendship.

Wonderey - We'll see how things go, then!

MoiraMcGregor - Thank you for your comment! I'm afraid it's not so easy as an immediate apology. But I hope to clarify everything with Walk With Me In Winter!

Cricklewood16 - Thank you very much! Thisis such a story that requires a slow advance. I'm glad you appreciate it! I'm glad you're reading the companion story. I think it will be more necessary than ever for this tale!

blasttyrant - He does his best! I'll be clarifying all this in the side story, so hopefully that explains his reaction better!

SarahWeasley - I do my best!

Jo - Sorry to hear about your internet, but I'm glad you're back! I hope you liked the mearas bit, as it was inspired by you. :)

Bell - We'll see what he'll do now! In any case, thank you! It's important to me that my characters are 'round', as you so wonderfully said!

Doranwen - I think he has a clue - the wrong one, that is!

Menelwen - Thank you for your thoughts! I believe their reconciliation wil happen in due time. But Éomer's anger may be more than just pride, and I mean to explore that at least in the companion piece Walk With Me In Winter.

Also I'm sorry about that double chapter! It was not my intention to cause such uncertainty.