Notes: That brings us to the end of this work. Thank you so much for following along. For your wonderful comments and incredible insight. I'm sure I'll be back soon with another thing before too long!

Rohan was not as Lothiriel had imagined it.

In the weeks without her betrothed, in the months she had known her soon-to-be husband only by his handwritten scrawl on his letters and his scent in the linens that wrapped small gifts he sent because they reminded him of her, she found that Rohan had turned in her mind grey and plain and endless. Rohan had turned from a land on a map to a nightmare of running without end. Ella spent long hours in the harbour of Dol Amroth staring at the water and knowing she would yearn for the sea her whole life through. She would miss the wildly differing horizon, the low ocean and high mountains. She would miss the rocky earth which housed only the toughest of plants.

Ella did not regret her choice but neither was she as unshakeable as she had been. She felt Dol Amroth's mark on her as surely as if she had been carved from its stones. How would she fare in a land she had never even seen before? In her mind's eye she saw Rohan now as a long desert of some sort of brush and vegetation but mostly of the half formed variety. It was to her a tenuous unknown that woke her up at night in a sweat. She was not sure she could learn to love such a land, and even less sure that such a land could learn to love her. She knew from Éowyn that her silks and ribbons would be found strange, that her skin would be found dark and her hair thought overdone and pretentious. Ella was a good rider but she was not hearty, a passable archer but not a huntress, and she had only ever handled a sword in ceremonies. She had never worn armour and could not imagine having it pressed into her skin. She carried her scars with honour but not with pride. She was not a woman Rohan would accept easily as their Queen. She knew they would see her as Éomer's wife. An outsider.

Amrothos began to sense his sister's restlessness and he grew increasingly protective of her and wary of her movements around the castle. Ella allowed him this freedom, it was nice to have someone who understood her feelings towards Éomer and why she would leave behind Gondor which she loved as fiercely as any woman born of it's soil. Amrothos knew, by virtue of the slight way Ella would tilt her cheek to catch sight of the chain she wore and carried Éomer's ring on, that she needed this as an anchor. A reminder. I love him. She told herself day after day. She imagined Éowyn making this same choice. She imagined Éowyn facing this same sadness and bearing it well. Ella could make her proud. If they were to be sisters she wanted nothing but to prove herself worthy. Make me strong, she begged the gods. Make me fearless. Make me lovely, so he will not regret his choice. Turn me from wild to serene. Make me wise. Make me graceful. Make me kind. What she meant was: make me better than I am so that he might love me forever. She was not sure she could live in another land without Éomer's love to hold her steady. It made her ache to think of all that she was not. She held his ring in her hands and turned its metal warm. He loves me. She repeated in her mind. He loves me. He loves me. He loves me.

He must.

Brother and sister rode with a sizable company which included their brothers and their families but not the Prince himself. Her father did not cry as he sent her to her future husband but he did hold her in his arms for so long that Ella almost resolved herself to stay. She was weeping, freeing the salt Dol Amroth from inside of her and leaving it here, where it belonged. Her father had his chin resting on the top of her head and said nothing. She did not speak. She breathed him in. Somehow, if she only could find the space in her lungs, she knew she could make him a part of her. He kissed her cheek and lifted her chin to meet her eyes. She felt his gaze echo into the very fibres of her body. "My Daughter." He said. Her tears quieted and she nodded her head.

"Father."

"You will be happy, my little bird."

The way he said it made her shaking stop. He did not demand it of her, neither was he asking her, it was a thing that was known to him and so he was making it known to her. She felt her spirit harden. There was some elf still in her father and he had said it and so it would be so.

"I am honoured to be your daughter." Ella knelt at his feet and bowed her head. He would bless her and walk her to her mount. She was not ready to part but there was much she was not ready for and she would do it anyway because that is what brave women did.

Her father did not bless her as she knelt there at his feet. He lifted her and pulled her once more into his arms. Ella hugged him fiercely, briefly, and all too soon he nodded gruffly and turned from her to the keep. Elphir walked his little sister to her mare and helped her up.

"To Rohan then, little sister?"

Ella hid her nerves behind a brazen grin. "Unless you can think of a more hospitable destination, Brother. I'm told the Shire is quite lovely."

"No kings in the Shire, Sister." Erchirion called to her.

"No, Brother. I've been told so."

"You wouldn't be queen in the Shire." Elphir added.

"They wouldn't be stupid enough to make me one." Ella shrugged, "Our poor Eorlingas friends, they have no idea the folly of their king. I pity them."

In a gesture that cemented her courage and all at once broke her heart in two, Elphir mounted and reached his one good hand to her. She squeezed it tightly. "Do not pity them sister. They are receiving the best of women, the best of Gondor. Do not pity them the treasure they will hold."

Ella did not weep for his words, but neither did she pull her hand from his until they began to ride in earnest. It was a good seven day journey to Rohan when the pace was quick but not taxing. There was time to reminisce over the campfires at night and much time for teasing but for sentiment the time was drawing to a close. The landscape turned slowly from mountains and pebbled earth to the rich soil of Ithilien and then to the drier, harder ground of Rohan. It happened so gradually that Ella barely noticed the change, she rode her horse and did not think except of hunger, when it struck, thirst, when her mouth dried, and sleep, when it grew dark. It was strange to dread and desire something so fiercely. She could not imagine what she might feel when she finally arrived at the famed Meduseld

Erchirion pointed out the hall when they were still leagues away. Edoras waited for them at the top of the highest hill in the region. As they got closer and Ella's heart crawled higher in her chest she could just see the waving flag of Éomer's house in the distance. She made herself focus on the white horse that reminder her so much of Lightning. She could feel the mare beneath her holding herself taut and ready to run. She could feel the solid heartbeat of the beast and the way she remained steady for her mistress. Lighting could always be counted on.

"Our pace is slow, Brother." She commented to Amrothos when they stopped for the night.

"For your sake, sister. We ride closer and you lean further back." He demonstrated, using his horse's brush as the imagined reins and tilting his body back until Ella feared he might fall. She began to laugh despite herself. "A night to rest before seeing the King will be good for you. You can brush your hair and wash your face."

"I fear all the washing in the world will not give me a Rohirrim's complexion." Ella gazed at her reflection in the trough that had been set up for the horses. Seeing her caught in the pool's mirror, Amrothos briskly splashed his hands into the water and slapped them on the back of his neck. Through the ripples, Ella could no longer see herself.

"And all the brushing would not turn your hair flaxen, but if King Éomer wished for a bride made of corn, he would have proposed to a cornfield. He did not."

Ella grinned at her brother's words. "I will be happy once we are at Meduseld. I am uncertain in the interim. I will know when I am there that my choice has been right."

"And if you are not, I will marry the King myself and you can get a head start on your horse. We are not leading you to slaughter, El- not a single one of us would be happy to sell you off if we thought you'd have it another way."

"I wouldn't." It was true, she realized. She pictured Éomer with a golden beauty and felt her blood boil. She pictured running and could not imagine it past her brother's disappointed faces. It was a previous her who ran from uncertainty. Not this Ella. No, not this one. "It is greener here than I imagined it would be."

"Isn't it?" Amrothos gazed out into the darkness, made darker by the light of their camp. "It reminds me of our sea at home. Rolling and cresting and going on as far as the eye can see. I'm fond of it already. It seems a good land."

"It is like an ocean, isn't it?" The thought made Ella smile. "I'd like to get Éomer on a boat. I would wager he'd turn as green as these plains."

"I won't take a fool's wager." Amrothos snorted, "Not even when it's offered by my sister, the future queen of Rohan."

"But think of what I could offer you!" Ella was laughing, delighted. "I could make you steward of this patch of grass right here. Or this one. Or that one. There are so many beautiful patches of grass to choose from."

"Those aren't yours to give away yet, Princess."

Ella noted that Amrothos had gone silent, though his own amusement was clear. She could only imagine who stood behind her but she could not fathom that he had left his hall to ride to her after dark and had managed to sneak up on them. She turned slowly to see her Éomer with his arms crossed and eyes dancing. "I shouldn't dare-" She stammered, not quite sure if she could trust the light in his eyes. She had not seen him in person in months. It feel like years. He looked the same. He looked different. His hair was longer and his beard was shorter and she found herself cross that she had not been there to see his hair grow. It was such a strange thought. She wanted to be there to know every change that happened to the man she loved, and it was not fair that she did not know if he felt the same. It was not fair that her hair was tangled down her back and her face was dusty and her clothes a mess, and that he was clean and ready for her, and it did not matter because she threw herself in his arms anyway and it was all she could do and all that mattered in that moment. "I'm sorry-" she whispered when he put her down, "I did not know you were coming. I would have dressed."

"I did not tell you." He replied and grinned down at her, "You seem plenty dressed to me."

"I'm filthy," She protested, "You should have waited."

He wrapped his arms around her and seemed to breath her in as she had done with her father. Their foreheads touched and the dirt from her clothes transferred to his and all at once they matched "I'd marry you here if I could. I'd find a cloth to bind our hands and dirt to mark our foreheads and I'd do the thing and get it done with."

Rohan marriage rites were different than those in Gondor. Ella had looked up what the wedding would entail but the Rohirrim weren't fond of writing things down. Most of the information had come from book written before the dark times and Gondorian folks who had written about the strange customs of the horse-lords. That, or dry government texts on import and export which gave no inkling of the sort of people at either end of the transaction. These texts were each flawed in their way and years outdated. Ella was determined to have new records commissioned or write them herself, either would do.

"Don't we need a witness? A speaker?"

He was listening to her, but not, eyes drawing down to the chain she wore his ring on.

"You're not wearing it?"

"I thought I might lose it. It was a long ride and my hands are rough and your ring is too large." She showed him her palms. They were hard and calloused and she was proud of them. The first time they had met she had been soft and young and her hands had not been good for much. She missed that softness, in its way, but she did not miss it enough to want to return.

Éomer nodded at her words and reached around her neck to undo the clasp of her chain and slide the ring out. He then took the jewel and put it into his pocket. Lothiriel watched him curiously. He didn't seem upset by the explanation but having gifts taken away was not a common occurrence for her. Perhaps it was traditional to return the method of proposal before one's wedding. Ella shifted slightly to catch her brother's eye. He looked as uncertain as she was and eyed the exchange between King and Princess curiously but kept an appropriate distance. Éomer touched Ella's elbow and gave her a bemused look as he offered her two rings from his pocket. One was larger and one was smaller and they were plain but well made and the metal was marked. Ella picked up the bigger ring and squinted at it in the light of the fire. She could just barely make out Nin Emel picked out on the inside of the ring. She placed it back into the King's palm and picked up the smaller ring and saw Nin Galad engraved inside. She smiled up at him. "It looks like it'll fit." My heart and my light. She did not know know him to be flowery with his words and so they meant more.

His grin was wide and she marvelled again at being the one who made this man smile. It was a thought she had had before and one that she imagined she would have the rest of their days together. He felt like an anchor inside of her, and she like a lightness inside of him. She covered his hand with her own and he said softly, "Then you are mine."

"I am yours." She agreed. "And you are mine."

"And I am yours."

She understood then that they were bound and he put the ring on her finger and she did the same. Éomer turned to Amrothos and asked, "You have heard our words?" and when Amrothos nodded, said "Then you will be our witness." Just like that, it was done.

It did not feel different to be 'one' with someone. The world did not shift. The kisses were not sweeter, and the embraces were not tighter. In the eyes of the Rohirrim, they were married, but it would not be until the wedding ceremony and coronation that she would be their Queen. There was more to come as there always was. Ella marvelled at her husband, at the fact that they lay together in grass that smelled sweet, on things that were soft and gazed at a sky that was bright with stars. She marvelled that the world seemed right and that she would have someone for when it shifted to wrong. She marvelled that her someone was brave and strong and good, that he was intuitive and grounded and smart. That he was callous and stubborn and prideful. She could not have imagined this on the fields of Pelennor. She had not known then that a person could be filled with so much hope.

Éomer lay with his arms around his dusty wife. Her hair was bound and her hands were tight in his own, and her face was clean and shining and her eyes were half closed with happiness and sleepiness. He thought of all he had lost. He thought of how harsh the world had been and how uncertain the path. He thought of how often he had wandered in darkness. He thought of this strange imp of a girl who had turned into a woman. He thought of how she was kind and clever and made him laugh. Of how she was impulsive and weak and selfish. He thought of how he would love her, of how they would fill the house of Éol with joy again. He thought of the world as it had been, and as it was now.

Somehow, it all seemed to make sense.