Chapter 13

Once inside, Éomer touched her shoulder and said he was going to get her something to drink before he vanished in the crowd. If there had been anything hopeful in her heart during their walk outside, it now vanished swiftly. She knew he had meant to kiss her, but had changed his mind and pulled away the moment he remembered there was a real world around them.

Perhaps it was for the better. To kiss him in the middle of a silly mead-induced stupor would be the worst thing indeed. He had probably realised that, too. She couldn't see him anywhere in the fair-haired company; he would probably be tackled by guests before he could ever get back to her.

And yet, seeing the hall before her, she recalled at once how they had danced there. Why had she insisted on more than just one dance? Why must she be so foolish? Now it would live in her mind, ruining all other dances because who in this world could compare to King Éomer of Rohan?

Deciding her night was now done, Lothíriel went on to seek for Éowyn. The crowd had not grown any less dense, though, and it was difficult trying to find her friend when it seemed like everyone was tall and blond. Her head began to throb and the noise only made it worse. More than ever, she yearned for the cool quiet of their bedchamber.

"Have you seen the Lady Éowyn?" she tried, grasping at this or that Rohir's forearm. But they just looked at her as though she had said something odd, and so she went on trying to find her friend.

Suddenly, a familiar voice came from her left.

"Lothíriel! Béma, you look like you're going to throw up!" Éowyn exclaimed, running to her side and instantly wrapping an arm about her. "What has happened? Are you sick? Did my idiot brother abandon you while you got ill?"

"No, no. He didn't do anything wrong. He went to get drinks. I only just began to feel poorly", Lothíriel replied. She hadn't guessed her disappointment and regret would show like this on her features.

"Let's get you to bed. It's not like this feasting will get any more sophisticated from here on", Éowyn said briskly and began to steer her towards the doors. Too weary to refuse, the younger woman simply followed. She hoped Déorwine, or any one else she might have promised dances tonight, wouldn't be too disappointed.

They got in their bedchamber and Éowyn helped her to change into a soft shift. Gently she laid aside the golden earrings and the necklace, which Lothíriel had been wearing since morning.

When Lothíriel had curled up under the blanket and the sleeping furs, Éowyn sat down on the edge of the bed and touched her arm.

"Tell me honestly", she spoke in solemn tones, "Did you quarrel with my brother tonight?"

"No", Lothíriel whispered, pulling the covers closer to her chin. "He's... he's too good and I'm a fool. That's all there is to it."

Her friend sat a moment longer next to her, though she said nothing. At last Éowyn let out a sigh.

"Sleep well. Morning may clear many things, my friend", she said and got up at last. Then she tiptoed out of the room, leaving Lothíriel to her thoughts and to the agony that now burned in her breast more fiercely than ever.

Oh, what a wretched thing it was to love.

It was very early when Lothíriel woke up. Sun was only just rising, peeking her blinding face inside the chamber she shared with Éowyn. Sitting up in the bed, she saw her friend was still fast asleep, curled up so tight that only the top of golden-haired head was visible. She hadn't heard her coming in last night.

Lothíriel got up as quietly as she could and dressed in a modest dark green gown that did not require lacing up. Picking up her shawl and a pair of boots, she tiptoed outside. She finished dressing and braiding her hair once she was in the corridor.

After several noisy and eventful days, the quiet and emptiness in the fortress was poignant. It seemed no one else was up yet, which probably meant the feast had carried on until early hours. Soon she noted the passageways were not entirely empty, though: on her way to the kitchens, she passed by a few Rohirrim who had decided to sleep on the floor of the corridor instead of finding their own appointed lodgings, wrapped up in their cloaks. Their snores never faltered as she walked past.

Eventually, her mind was turned to him. What had he done after taking his leave of her? Had he tried to find her? Had he spent the rest of the night thinking about the kiss that had almost been? Or had he cast it from his mind the moment he was able to git rid of her? The memory of them standing together on the wall made her lips tingle, as if to torment her with the idea of what could have been, and in the mockery of that spoiled moment. Disappointment twisted in the pit of her stomach, but her mind tried to reason: it would be twice as bad if they had kissed. And much more difficult to get over him.

She swallowed hard. There was no easy way of leaving Éomer behind now. And if he feared spring and the moment of parting, so did she.

The kitchens were the only place so far that was not entirely deserted. Lady Léoma was there along with a few other women, eating early breakfast together. Erkenbrand's wife smiled and bid her to join them, which Lothíriel did with a wan smile.

"Did you enjoy yourself last night?" asked Léoma when she was seated with some hot tea and porridge before her.

"It was lovely. Very noisy, of course, but I liked it", she replied. She didn't add that the night had been unforgettable in more than just one way.

"I am glad to hear it. I had not thought Yuletide would be so happy here in the Westfold. It was needed after all the sorry things that have happened lately. You see, Théodred Prince used to hold this fortress while he lived. He was well loved among those who dwell here, and his loss a grave blow. But you and the Lady Éowyn have brought some laughter and sunshine in the middle of winter", Léoma spoke in solemn those, and those of the other ladies that were close enough to hear, nodded in agreement.

"What do the people of Westfold think of his cousin, who is now king?" Lothíriel asked carefully.

"He's the first of a new line and a lord of East-Mark by birth, even if he has Eorl's blood from both sides. It's not a position I envy", Léoma began slowly. But her tone lightened a little bit when she continued, "He is doing better than most expected. And it seems fate has chosen him."

Lothíriel did not ask further. But she could well imagine what Léoma meant.

"Is Lady Éowyn awake yet?" Léoma inquired then, leaving the previous topic behind.

"No. She was fast asleep when I left our bedchamber. She must be exhausted", said Lothíriel with a faint smile.

"Aye, I imagine so; I saw her sitting up late with her brother", Léoma agreed. A faint, gentle smile touched her features, "It is good to see her so happy. I remember how wan and pale she looked back before the war."

"Indeed. But she deserves her happiness", Lothíriel noted softly. "She is to live in Ithilien, which used to be a fair and rich land. The garden of Gondor, it was called. I think it needs someone like her to heal it again. Only one who has looked into the shadow can truly understand what it means to rise from it."

"I do not doubt your words, but what are strange, distant lands to us who are to stay? Who is to be the one who heals our hurts? The King will do what he can, of that I have no doubt, but to rebuild this land and mend its wounds is a task that takes more than one man can give. Some had hoped Lady Éowyn would stand by him until our struggles our people are past. It will be a sad day when she leaves Rohan. For so long, she has been the closest thing we have to a queen. Meduseld needs a mistress, and I worry for what will come of it once our White Lady has left us", said the older woman with a slight shake of her head.

"Well, there are many hurts in the world. Who can count or hope to fix them all? And a day may come when Rohan is glad that House of Eorl allied with that of the Stewards of Gondor", Lothíriel remarked, and after that, they spoke no more of that matter.

Once she had eaten, Lothíriel took her leave of the ladies again. A few people were now moving about the corridors, but it was still fairly quiet. As the sun was now shining so brightly, she decided to go and get some fresh air.

It felt a little bit warmer now outside, though not yet warm enough to melt the snow. The steps leading up to the rampart were slippery: some new snow had fallen but it had melted and then frozen again. She climbed up carefully, as she didn't want to tumbling down to the ground. Now there was another hazard of living in the Hornburg she hadn't considered.

The landscape basked in early morning's light. It was almost blinding thanks to snow, making her blink until her eyes adjusted. Several people were now moving in the courtyard as the fortress was slowly coming back to life.

Lothíriel halted to stand at the very spot she and Éomer had stood last night. Carefully she put her hands where he had leant his arms, tracing cold stone with her fingertips. She felt wretched. Men kissed women all the time without meaning anything serious by it. She ought to know, having three older brothers. And young, handsome kings probably had no lack in willing partners.

But then, he had spoken of his dread of spring and the day of parting. His words had suggested it was not just Éowyn's going that dismayed him and he had said it had felt like family between the three of them. Before, she had surmised he regarded her much in the same way as his sister. However, last night's dance and the moment on the rampart did not imply brotherly affection on his part.

She bit her lip as she tried to understand what it all meant. Well, she knew what she wanted to believe, but that was a dangerous road. And what did such heartfelt desires matter in the large scale of things? Even if he did fancy her in some small degree, it didn't mean he would do anything about it. Maybe he couldn't. For Lothíriel had seen the troubles of Rohirrim, and only this morning Lady Léoma had made it clear that his lordship over the West-Mark was not absolute. A bride from the Westfold was the obvious answer. He would have to marry in Rohan. Even if the House of Eorl and the House of Stewards of Gondor were to be united, it didn't mean that the King himself could be looking outside the borders of his land. In fact, the lords of both kingdoms would probably agree that one union was quite enough.

Lothíriel let out a sigh and straightened herself. She was starting to feel cold and desolate. No amount of mulling over this would change the matter for better or for worse. In the end, the initiative had to come from Éomer himself, if he had a mind for it. She knew well enough she had no right, the political prestige or the courage to ask for his hand.

"My lady Lothíriel. Good morning", a sudden voice startled her. She turned around to see Lord Déorwine standing few feet away from her. So lost in her thoughts she had been, she had not noticed his arrival at all.

"Good morning, Lord Déorwine", she greeted him with a curtsy. She was aware it wasn't very graceful, but standing in the cold had left her more stiff than she had first noticed.

"I missed you last night, my lady. I believe you promised a dance to me", he said, not quite as smooth and charming as normally.

Lothíriel lowered her eyes in embarrassment. Indeed, now she could recall promising to dance with him after Éomer. Last night she had forgotten about it completely, at least until the moment she had started to feel poorly. Reason for that was clear to her, but she wasn't certain of how to explain it without hurting his feelings.

"I am sorry", she said carefully at length. "I didn't mean to ignore you. I was just... I was distracted."

"Yes, it was quite plain to see for anyone who has eyes", he remarked dryly, making her blush. She knew Éomer had very well put her under his spell especially for that third dance, but that she had been so transparent to all observers? Any lady of Gondor in her right mind would deem it a disgrace to forget oneself before so many eyewitnesses. On the other hand, she didn't think even they would be immune to the irresistible charms of the King of Rohan.

"Lord Déorwine, I really am sorry. I know my behaviour was far from proper. But don't think it was meant as an insult", she tried to apologise again, but his annoyance was not quite soothed yet. Why was he so irritated when at all turns she had tried to make it clear she was not available?

"It is him, then? The King is the reason you keep refusing other offers, isn't he?" he demanded to know, stepping closer. She had not think he was capable of aggression, that his temper was entirely too mild to rouse heated emotions. Once, she had even thought he would never be able to get angry with her. But now it seemed she had not perceived his character in full.

"My lord -" Lothíriel tried to begin, but he cut her off swiftly.

"So you keep hanging on this hope that the blind fool will take notice of you. Tell me, was it the throne you were after all along? Did you really come here to instruct Lady Éowyn, or to try to catch the biggest fish of them all while other noble maidens of Gondor were far away? I had taken you for a lady of unusual grace and character, but now I wonder if I had it wrong", he asked hotly. His features twisted in a sneer, losing all the fairness he had.

Her eyes began to burn in pain and humiliation. How could he say something so cruel! Yes, she had tried to tell herself that her feelings were but a silly infatuation, but it had been mainly to assuage her own heart. And not for a second had she thought of Éomer fondly because he was king; all her admiration for him as a ruler came simply from the hardships he was willing to put himself through so that his people, even someone like Déorwine, could live in peace and prosperity.

And somehow that very thing revived her pride and spirit.

"If you are so eager to think badly of me, then maybe you never had a good idea of my character. I do not deny that I have been foolish and naive, but even then all I wanted was to support my friend. You are welcome to believe whatever you will, if it helps you to soothe your injured pride, but do not ever presume you may speak to me of King Éomer like that and still keep my good faith", she announced, having found her courage once more. Proudly she lifted her chin in challenge and she wound her arms across her chest.

The sneer vanished from his features. Instead, he looked at her in surprise and wonder, speechless all of a sudden. But Lothíriel already feared for her resolve. Could she maintain such steely countenance for long? Perhaps it was better not to try her luck. At any rate, they had now made things quite clear to one another.

So she brushed past him, heading for the stairs so that she could get down into the courtyard. While her newly found pride and her own surprise at revealing it still beat hotly inside her head, she was aware that her limbs were now cold and stiff. She needed to get back inside.

Lothíriel was taking the first step down the stairs when suddenly, a hand grasped her wrist: Déorwine had followed her and was trying to stop her. However, his grip was not too tight and she yanked her arm away instinctively. She opened her mouth to angrily reproach him.

But there was no chance to convey her disapproval, because something else happened. Her foot found no purchase on stone. Ground vanished from under her, she gasped in alarm, and then she fell.

Pain exploded across her head and all went dark.

The very first thing she knew was pain. It was overwhelming and urgent, and at first she could not say which part of her body felt it the most. It grew more intense when she opened her eyes: colour, shapes and light made her head throb with renewed agony. Had she been able to talk, she would have begged the voices around her to quiet down. What had happened she couldn't say and she didn't bother to try and recall. Her head hurt enough as it was and all she wanted was to fall back to numb darkness.

"... I think I saw her eyes open. She's coming around again", a voice was saying somewhere nearby.

"Lothíriel? Are you awake?" another voice spoke suddenly, closer than the first one. It was familiar, too, but Lothíriel had hard time thinking of names. She didn't want to answer and was still willing herself to pass out again.

"Please answer if you can hear me. It's Éowyn here", the voice said, more insistent now. Éowyn. Yes, she should respond, probably.

"Where is my father?" Lothíriel managed, much to her own surprise, though it sounded wrong somehow. She opened her eyes briefly, but it made her light-headed and sick. Light was all too bright.

"What is she saying?" someone asked.

"It's Sindarin. She's asking for her father", Éowyn answered, sounding concerned.

"Eyes seem normal and there's no bleeding in the ears", another said.

"But her speech is slurred. The injury may be more serious than we thought", a new voice stated. A hushed conversation followed this, and Lothíriel felt too disoriented to try and follow it.

"... no, the guard said the fall looked worse than it was really. She's in a lot of pain, of course she won't be able to talk clearly", the first voice argued.

"Either way, we need to examine her more closely, and something needs to be done about that arm soon. We must set it right away."

The voices apparently agreed about this. Then one of them addressed to Éowyn again,"We've got everything under control, Lady Éowyn. The best you can do now is go and calm the King down before he breaks through that door."

Éomer is here. She tried to tell them she wanted him, now, but only a weak groan came out.

Someone leant close to her once more.

"My lady, don't be alarmed. Your arm is broken, but it seems like a clean break. We are going to set it now", the person above her said. There was some shuffling, and several people gathered close. One held her down and two were examining the arm.

A few things happened almost at once. A voice yelled outside: Let me see her! There was pressure on her arm, then unspeakable agony followed, and she screamed, until the sheer amount of pain finally made her pass out.

Sounds and the whirlwind of shapes and colours had ceased when she came around again. Light still hurt her eyes somewhat, but it was not so bright anymore. Her head ached, though, especially when she tried to discern what time was it. Almost the entire left side of her body throbbed with a dull, slow pain.

Lothíriel tried to move. At once, multiple lances of pain went through her, most especially her head and her arm. A whimper escaped through her lips and she thought she might actually cry from all the discomfort she felt right then.

There was movement somewhere at the edge of her vision, which was narrow enough as it was.

"Lothíriel?" a deep, gentle voice asked. Then fingers brushed her right hand, which did not seem to hurt so much. The sound of the voice was dear and familiar and it calmed her down.

"Éomer?" she whispered. Her throat was tight and so her voice came out croaky and thin.

"You're awake. Thank Béma!" he muttered softly. "How do you feel?"

"Everything hurts", she answered at length. But behind her lay darkness, and she wasn't sure of how she had come to be in this state. "What happened?"

"You were on the rampart with Lord Déorwine, about to come down. But the steps were slippery and you fell down the stairs. Your arm was broken and you hit your head when you landed", he replied gravely. She could now see him sitting next to her and she was in a bed. It looked like her and Éowyn's room.

"Oh", she answered, not knowing what else to say. Yes, she could remember bits now: hurrying towards the stairs, her foot slipping on icy stone, and then unspeakable pain...

"I saw you go down. For a moment I thought..." Éomer said, but his voice died abruptly, like it was too hard to finish the sentence. He let out a heavy breath and then continued to talk, "Lothíriel, I'm sorry that I have to ask you this now, but can you remember what happened? Did Déorwine... did he push you down?"

She blinked in confusion. The question made no sense, but she couldn't answer it either way. When she tried to think back, the pain in her head grew stronger.

"W-why are you asking?" she stammered.

"Guards said it looked like you and him were arguing. You were walking quickly like you were trying to get away from him. And they saw his hands on you only seconds before you fell", he said in quiet, heavy voice. His dark eyes burned dangerously, and even in her addled state, she knew that right now, Déorwine's life was hanging on a delicate balance.

She closed her eyes and attempted to recall. Yes, they had been talking of something, but she couldn't say if it had been an argument or not. The only thing she could recall clearly was the fall.

"I-I don't know. My head-" she whimpered and struggled to breathe.

"It's all right", he hurried to say, and his fingers traced her cheek so carefully it was as though she was more fragile than glass. "It's all right. Just breathe. I shouldn't have asked. Don't worry about it, dear heart. You need to rest."

Her heart slowed down again and distress faded. With it, the pain eased slightly.

"You do not know how I feared for you today, Lothíriel. Few things scare me as much as the idea of you being hurt", he said in a low, downcast voice.

"I should have been more careful", she uttered.

"I don't think it was your fault", he said darkly, though he didn't mention Déorwine's name again. Then he picked up her right hand in his own and kissed it ever so slightly.

"Try to get some sleep. Don't be troubled. Éowyn will be here shortly. She'll watch over you while you get some rest", he promised. She wanted to ask him to stay, but kept the thought to herself.

"My head hurts. Can't you ask a healer to give me anything for the pain?" she asked instead.

"I requested the same, but Hornburg's healers wouldn't allow it. They say it's not wise while they're not sure of how badly you hurt your head", he answered regretfully.

She sighed heavily. Well, she should have known to expect it. But maybe there was at least one thing he could grant her.

"Stay until I fall asleep?" she asked him quietly. She knew it would make her feel a little less miserable.

"Of course", he promised, and at last she saw something that resembled a smile on his features.

She smiled a little bit too – and not least because he was still holding her hand.

She slept or dozed off for the most of the day. A few times she woke up when one of the healers came to check on her, asking some easy questions and examining her eyes and ears. But apparently the signs were well enough, because Éowyn's expression grew a little less concerned once she had spoken with the healers.

The White Lady had arrived some time while Lothíriel had slept. She sat in the chair Éomer had occupied earlier, working on the shirt she was making for Faramir. They didn't speak much, as Lothíriel was too tired and in pain to hold a conversation, and loud noises still bothered her somewhat. In the evening, Éowyn helped her to drink some hot broth. When the patient asked for the King again, Éowyn looked regretful.

"The second day of Yule celebrations is going on, and he's needed there. But the atmosphere is quite different from yesterday. They will all be thinking of you", Éowyn said gravely.

"If everybody is feasting, then you should go and be with them. I'm not great company right now", Lothíriel tried. Yule was why they had come in the first place, after all.

"Don't think I could celebrate anything while you are not well. And in any case, the healers said you shouldn't be left alone tonight, They believe the injury to your head is not serious, but we are not going to risk it", Éowyn said firmly and reached to gently pat her good hand.

"I'm sorry I ruined Yule. I shouldn't have been on that rampart", Lothíriel muttered. Her eyes began to burn in shame and regret. This was the absolute opposite of her designs, and it felt horrible to think she had spoiled Éomer and Éowyn's last Yule together.

"You speak like you meant to do it! Don't be silly, my friend. It was an accident and while it's regrettable, I'm glad you weren't hurt worse", Éowyn said, and her tone implied she would take no more of such talk.

Soon enough Lothíriel dozed off again. The pain in her head had lessened a little bit, allowing easier rest. But her left arm, now tightly wrapped and tended, often bothered her. Father would be wroth to hear of all this, which was dismal to think. She would have to make sure he understood it was no one's fault but hers when she was well enough to write.

Healers came again during the night, though they now seemed more convinced that the injury was not serious. Éowyn had gone and instead, Éomer kept watch by her bedside. He looked exhausted and Lothíriel bid him to go to bed, but he would not have any of it.

"I'm not going anywhere while any doubt remains. I told you earlier that I can't bear the idea of you hurting", he told her gravely.

"Éomer... I'm sorry I caused all this bother. I wanted you and Éowyn to have a good time", she whispered, feeling wretched all over again.

"But I did have a good time, dear fool. Last night was wonderful", he replied calmly as he sat back in the chair. His words rather took her by surprise. Even with the fuzz of this day's events, last night she recalled clearly. It had meant something for him, too.

Maybe there was hope, after all. But wish as she might, she did not dare to grasp that idea fully. So she said nothing.

"Rest now. I'll stay close", he said, propping his feet up on the edge of the bed.

With a sigh, she settled down again and closed her eyes.

A new day came, dimmer than yesterday had been. The room was quiet as she woke and the chair next to her bed was empty.

She sat up carefully, ready to fall back if it felt too much. But while there still was an ache in her head, it felt milder than the last time she had been awake. In fact, her arm was much worse. Her side was sore, too: she guessed she had landed on it when she had fallen.

She lifted her legs over the edge of the bed and tried to rise. Her knees felt a little unsteady, but not impossibly so. She was still in the middle of her attempt when the door opened and Éowyn stepped inside.

"And what do you think you're doing? The healers haven't yet taken a look at you today!" she exclaimed in anxiety, putting aside the tray she had been carrying and hurrying to her friend's side. She began to push her down, though her hands were gentle and careful.

"I'm fine. My head feels much better", Lothíriel said, but in her present state she was no match for her friend. She fell down to sit again.

"Are you certain? Head injuries are no laughing matter. You could have been hurt very badly", Éowyn said, examining her face as though she still expected to see some alarming sign.

"Don't worry, Éowyn. I'd just like to stretch myself a little bit", said Lothíriel. Maybe, if she got out of bed, her friends would not be so concerned over her.

"We'll see what the healer says", Éowyn insisted. "And in any case, you should eat something."

She had brought enough food for them both, thick creamy porridge and rolls fresh from the ovens, and some ripe cheese. There were even some berries, preserved since harvest. Lothíriel knew it was an unusual fare even for a high lady at this time, but apparently Éomer and Éowyn were not the only ones fussing about her.

When they were eating, something from yesterday returned to Lothíriel's mind. She looked at her friend.

"Éomer said something yesterday... he wanted to know about what happened. He asked if Lord Déorwine pushed me down the stairs. Why would he ask such a thing?" she wondered out loud.

Éowyn's features were grave.

"Because the circumstances were unclear. There were guards saying it looked like you argued with him, and that his hand was on you when you fell", she replied at length and let out a sigh. "My brother should not have asked so soon. The healers said it wouldn't be wise to strain you. But he became a little mad when he saw you on the ground, and then some more when he spotted Déorwine right where you fell from. I suppose he was eager to know if he could go and strangle the poor bugger."

"What happened? Is Lord Déorwine all right?" Lothíriel asked in alarm. She had not realised at all what kind of light it would put him in! And Lord Erkenbrand and Lady Léoma, too, for they were Déorwine's uncle and aunt. Her dismay grew. It sounded like her stupid accident had caused a political scandal!

"He was seized from the scene and has been under lock and key since then. Éothain interrogated him yesterday. Déorwine insists he's innocent, but Éomer will not release him until you have had your say", the White Lady replied.

"I am so sorry about everything. I had no idea it was this bad", Lothíriel said, her appetite all gone at these news. Once again she reproached herself for ever going to the rampart. She should have taken notice of the slippery stairs and remain in the courtyard!

She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat and went on to add, "But for the record, I don't remember him pushing me down. No, he wouldn't do such a thing."

"Then can you tell me what you were talking about, Lothíriel?" Éowyn asked gently.

The younger woman tried to focus. She could recall being angry, but the words they had spoken kept escaping her. And the more she struggled to remember, the more her head hurt.

Her friend saw her discomfort and reached to touch her uninjured hand.

"It's all right. It will come back in time, perhaps. If you can't remember now, then we shall let it be for now. Éomer would have my hide if he thought that I had upset you and delayed your recovery", she said, growing concerned once more.

"Still, I'm sure Déorwine didn't do anything. He wouldn't hurt me, and I think I'd remember if he did. Please tell Éomer to set him free. I can't have your brother in dispute with Lord Erkenbrand because of me", Lothíriel said anxiously. She remembered Lady Léoma's words once more. She and her husband were well respected in West-Mark, and in some regards even more so than the King himself. What a mess it would be if some stupid southern lady was the cause of dissent between them! Father would never let her leave the palace by the sea again.

"I will speak with him", Éowyn promised. Her eyes remained solemn when she added, "But you must understand my brother reacted so strongly only because it was you who came under harm."

Lothíriel said nothing. She stared at her cup of tea and thought of how evidence was amassing now, and had for some time, but she had stubbornly turned a blind eye to it. Perhaps he did care for her like she did for him. But if he did, then why wouldn't he say anything? For she would go to him in a heartbeat if he just asked.

On the other hand, he was always worrying about everything, always dreading the worst.

Maybe this was not different. Maybe... he was just as afraid of rejection as she.

A couple of days passed while she convalesced. The pain in her head faded, though her arm remained a bother. Even smallest tasks were difficult, but thankfully Éowyn or Hild were always ready to help. When she first changed shifts, she saw the many bruises acquired during her fall. The greater portion of the now blue and purple discolouring covered her left side, especially her upper thigh. At least the healers soon gave her a permission to start moving about. Lothíriel wasn't sure how she would have managed the recovery if they had told her to stay abed.

Ladies of the fortress often kept her company when Éowyn was busy, and Éomer too came to sit awhile with her whenever he could. He was gentle and caring and she loved him more than ever, though she didn't say anything. And she recalled the night atop the rampart and the kiss they had almost shared there. But to her relief, it didn't shadow their conversations now. She guessed things wouldn't be so easy without her injury.

Déorwine did not show his face. He had been released soon enough: Éowyn had relayed Lothíriel's words to Éomer and after questioning her himself, he had eventually agreed that the decision to seize the young lord had been a hasty one. So far, it didn't seem like his brief imprisonment had caused bad blood between the King and his Marshal, even if there were some mutterings among the people, as Éowyn reported to her friend. All the same, he didn't come to pay his respects to Lothíriel, or send any word. She wondered if it was because of guilt or shame.

Some memories of their talk she had been able to regain, and she could now recall the contempt he had shown, thinking she had only rejected him because she was after a bigger fish. As such, she was glad he did not come to see her. Nor did she report the cause of their argument to Éomer or Éowyn, for she knew they would just get angry. And if they did, another scandal was a very likely to occur.

So passed the Yuletide, and it was not even close to what she had hoped. But when the fourth came since her accident came, there was a shift in the air.

Lothíriel woke up to some noise in the courtyard. Éowyn had already got up and left her, so she couldn't ask her friend what was afoot. Peering out of the window, she saw a company of Riders getting ready, preparing their horses and speaking with eagerness that often precedes a journey. She saw they were Knights wearing the rich green cloaks of the King's Guard. Éomer was riding out, it seemed. She frowned to herself. He hadn't said anything to her last night when he had visited her.

Anxious to go and bid him farewell, she searched for her dressing-gown and slippers. It was difficult to pull the garment on without help, but she managed it with some muttered Rohirric curses. She found the language of Rohan was much better for cursing than Sindarin or Common Tongue; Amrothos would be fascinated to hear it.

She had managed to clumsily tie the dressing-gown when there was a knock on the door. Then Éomer stepped inside, fully armoured, his cloak flowing down his shoulders. She fell to sit down on the bed from sheer emotion that overtook her.

"Good morning, Lothíriel. I hope I'm not disturbing you?" he greeted her with a smile. He looked like had already been to a hundred places this morning.

"Good morning. No, you're not disturbing me. I was just about to go find out what is going on", she replied, feeling shabby all of a sudden. She hadn't had a chance to wash her face or comb her hair. Where she looked like she had just tumbled out of some bush, he was tall and golden and fair. She wondered if he always seemed so. Even when he had lain injured, she had thought he was more than Mortal Men usually were.

"That is what I came to tell you", he said, approaching her and sitting down next to her on the unmade bed. "I need to ride for the Isen again, but I had to see you before I go."

"Has something happened?" she asked in concern.

"Not to my knowledge, though the Dunlendings are restless. I must go and see that things don't get out of hand again, even if I'd much prefer to stay here", he said solemnly. He took a deep breath and looked straight at her. His dark, keen eyes took her captive once more.

"These past couple days, I've kept my silence so that you may heal in peace. But there's something important I need to talk about with you, Lothíriel. There's no time now. So I ask you to wait for me until I may return. Rest well and get better. I wish that you will never be hurt again while you remain in the Mark", he said to her, deep and slow. And she knew very well what she hoped. Perhaps the moment on the rampart had not ruined everything. Maybe it was just the unfortunate timing of her accident that had prevented something quite significant.

But she knew he had to go now, and no matter how much her heart yearned, she wanted him to make no heartfelt confessions when there was no time. But until such moment came, he ought to know there was hope.

So she leant closer to him, lifted herself a little bit by the help of her good hand, and quickly pressed her lips against his cheek. Before pulling back, she breathed in the scent of his skin. It was a warm, reassuring smell and she could never get enough of it.

"Stay safe", Lothíriel said quietly, like she had once before.

Ever so gently, he cradled her head between his hands. He looked at her in a way that made her mouth run dry.

"Always", he spoke, also remembering that other parting, and then kissed the top of her head as light as feather. Lothíriel closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, he was already gone.

To be continued.

A/N: Who doesn't love a bit of drama every now and then? :D To be honest, though, I originally did not mean to do anything like this. But when I thought of how to resolve the matter of Déorwine, I chose to introduce a bit of conflict to get the characters where I want them.

Also, Lothíriel is now giving some careful consideration to the possibility that Éomer does return her feelings. But she feels like he should take the initiative, seeing he's a king and may not be politically able to pursue her. Close to the end of the chapter she begins to wonder if it's really just because he's as afraid of being rejected as herself. But we'll see how these matters will be resolved!

Thank you for reading and reviewing!

Wtiger5 - Drunks seem to have an annoying ability to ruin precious moments, indeed!

I think she's maybe starting to get there, even if the conflict in this chapter hinders it more or less!

Serni - :D Well, what can I say? I love to tease, and clueless fools are some of the best characters to write! :D

aryaputra - :D Oh, I hope you didn't wake up anybody! Though I'm quite pleased to make such an impression.

EStrunk - I do like my teasing, yes! :D And that bit about her feeling nervous with her hair down was fun to write. It's nice to be able to add little things like that in stories!

Tibblets - Thanks! :)

sai19 - Thank you! And you are quite right! Slow burns make for delicious resolutions!

Cricklewood16 - Glad to hear your reactions! That was some good stuff indeed. :)

darkone7142 - Happy to hear you think so! :)

Hobbitpony1 - Thank you! I do my best. :)

Doranwen - Oh, she really is not as subtle as she thinks! Still, it remains to be seen who'll make the decisive move now!

Menelwen - Well, I simply can't help it! :D

That's one lovely mental picture you've got there, with them watching the dawn and taking shelter under his cloak. Almost makes me want to rewrite that last chapter's ending!

I'm glad to hear my updates bring such joy!

EstellaCrane - Here goes!

Bell - Oh dear, I hadn't imagined the ending would impact anyone so strongly! Hopefully some time soon, I'll be able to give a more satisfactory situation.

blasttyrant - I'm sorry, I guess? :D

Anon - That's a lovely idea! :D We'll see what happens.

It's interesting for me to explore this struggle he has with his grief and guilt over not being able to take joy in peace like others do. But I'm glad it doesn't dampen the mood. Well, I guess it helps that I'm writing this from Lothíriel's POV, and she doesn't have those issues, so his melancholy does show in a more hopeful light. And she is hopeful by nature, so she tries not to be too affected by her despair that he'll never return her feelings.

JenB - Thank you very much! I'm flattered to hear you think so highly of my stories. :)

Wondereye - There may be forces at work already!

Jo - Indeed! ;)

PilotDante - Here it is!

Nibel Verius Yggdrasil - Thank you for your comments! You leave such lovely reviews. :) And don't worry about it being late! I understand that real life can be hectic at times.

I have to admit, I just had to write a dancing scene for him and her simply because they were denied it before! I'm glad it was a delightful read. But you are right, he's finding he can be bolder with her than he previously imagined.

Also thanks for your compliment! I am very much driven by the characters to write, so it's great to hear I've managed to give them soul and personality.

HannahKathleen - There has been some misfortune for them, indeed!

Guest - Thank you! I'm glad you like the story. :)

frank . kilgenschmidt - How could I not? :D

Anyway, I'm glad you liked the chapter. As a writer, I'm happy to hear that you are so invested in the story!

I've been learning English more than half of my life, and spent several years practising my writing. So if it had not got anywhere in this time, I would have already quit. Still, thank you very much for the compliment!