I AM NOT INTENTIONALLY DRAWING THIS STORY OUT WITH FILLER, PROMISE! I JUST WANT TO DO THIS STORY RIGHT AND NOT SKIMP ON STUFF JUST BECAUSE IT WOULD BE EASIER THAT WAY.

AND I WAS SERIOUS ABOUT THOSE OTHER SCENES I MENTIONED. LET ME KNOW, PEOPLE! ANYWAY, ON TO THE REVIEWS:

Jo: I hope to keep that sentiment alive for the rest of my story, believe me. Thanks for your brief, but kind reviews!

Me and Not You 1001: Rowena is just nervous about actually using her fencing 'skills' (rusty and almost nonexistent in her mind) in an actual sparring match with someone who is very good with a sword. Is that what you meant by 'what's wrong with Rowena's fencing?'? If not, please PM me and we can talk it out there.

JJAndrews: I did a bit of 4-h BB stuff in my youth and have only done archery about once in my life. I wish her luck, too, cus knowing me, she'll need it! ;)

I don't know what about the gun laws thing makes me laugh, but I legit laughed out loud for a good minute. So, yes, I would say you succeeded! :)

God bless and good day!

~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER

Aragorn and I squared off, a few bystanders pausing to see what was going on. I knew that this would not be like fencing, so I swallowed my nerves down, gripped my sword like Aragorn held his, and let him make the first move. He charged, swinging overhead at first, but then switched and swung at my legs instead. I knock the sword aside and jab at his chest. Either he was taking it really easy on me or I was enjoying beginner's luck.

Either way, my sword connected and Aragorn grunts, but doesn't react beyond that, spinning and striking my chest in return. I feel the air rush out of me in a breathy exhale, but blearily try to swing at the man's head. He sweeps my feet out from under me, flicks the sword casually out of my hands, and catches it before I'd even landed, winded and cursing myself for suggesting this, on the ground.

"A worthy try, but it appears you are rusty at least, Rowena." He snarks. I stick my tongue at him as I pick myself up.

"Thanks, Captain Obvious." I grumble, but accept the sword and listen as he coaches me. Turns out, I caught on almost as well as with horseback riding, but not nearly as smoothly; I ended up with several bruises and a split lip from an accidental strike to my face Aragorn still looked guilty about. But through all that, I can honestly say I enjoyed it. I liked learning more about how to defend myself and how best to go about returning the offensive. "That was actually more fun than I thought it would be." I muse, laughing through my bruised ribs. "Though the bruises aren't a bonus." I add cheekily. Aragorn and I chuckle.

"All say that, but they learn to dodge blows better this way." I grimace as I roll my shoulders. The one that had been shot still panged if I twisted it wrong.

"Can't imagine anyone not wanting bruises all over themselves." I grumble sarcastically. Aragorn shakes his head in bemusement at me, chuckling.

"You are swift to learn new things, Rowena." He compliments and I return his minute grin. "It will serve you well in the coming days." He says.

"Let's hope so."

=#=#=#=#=

The rest of the day passed without incident other than seeing Legolas looking as hungover as I will ever see him, refusing to move from his position leaning against a pillar. He was also rubbing his temples as he tried to be rid of what I think is a migraine I somehow doubt had anything to do with alcohol.

"Legolas?" I ask, hand on his shoulder worriedly. He opens his eyes and looks at me. "You alright?" He nods.

"Forgive me. The incident with the Palantir has unsettled me, I fear. That it all." I deadpan.

"You look like you're having the worst migraine in history. What's wrong?" He sighs.

"Being that close to even a Palantir's vision of Sauron...it is not something I care to repeat or describe."

"If it makes you feel any better, my hands were burnt a little by that stupid thing. Only superficially, but still." It was a lame attempt, but I had at least tried, and it's the thought that counts, right? He chuckles.

"Sadly, it does not help, but I appreciate the attempt." I smile.

"Well, it is the thought that counts, or so I've heard. Now, it appears we have a dinner awaiting us. Shall we?" He chuckles, allowing me to pull him up.

"We shall. Come." In minutes, we are seated, Legolas with the Fellowship, me with Eomer once more at the head table at my Marshall's insistence.

"This is getting to be a habit." I muse. "Sure this is okay?" Eomer smiles, taking my hand.

"If not, I care little for the protests. Since all of Edoras knows we are courting, can we not be open with each other and our affections?" I nod.

"I see. Good point."

"That, I have seen but little of you since the excitement this morning." I grimace.

"Whoops." I mumble. "My bad. I was getting everything back to normal in Meduseld after the feast last night and then I was sparing with Aragorn."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I decided that, since I cannot rely on my gun forever, it's never too early to learn to defend myself." Eomer nods.

"Sound plan, min leof." It was something of a pet-name he'd taken to calling me, his native tongue intoxicating to listen to. It meant 'my beloved' or 'my dear' in ways the Common Tongue, as English was called here, could never quite replicate.

"Tell that to my bruises." I muse, grin betraying the sour tone I'd tried to maintain.

"I remember being coated in them when I first learned alongside Theodred." Eomer muses, and I catch the fondness beneath the slight grief of his voice. I take his hand, not needing to say anything to comfort him. He would continue this topic or change it as he chose. I need not push him. "My father and uncle appeared to think that we should begin learning at ten winters old. It was a solid plan, and now I see the benefits of it, particularly in battle." I sigh. All this talk to fighting and battle, posed as casually as the weather, was so foreign to me, and yet I was getting used to it. Here, there were different rules and customs. I had to respect and learn to adjust to them.

"Hmm. I guess I'm just behind schedule, then." I muse wryly. "Very behind schedule." We share a chuckle at that and the dinner passes swiftly, filled with many more chuckles and easy jokes. Even after dinner was over, we sat talking and laughing, content in each other's company.

All too soon, Eomer and I stand before the hallway leading to my room, as we had only this morning. It seems so long ago.

So much has happened since then.

"Here we are again." Eomer muses, without a hint of humor, the memory as disturbing to him as it was to me. I nod.

"Seems like a long time since I last stood here." He nods.

"Well, barring any incidents, I plan to retire. I bid you goodnight, my lady." It was a declaration of our courtship and I loved it. I was his and he was mine and that's all that matters here, in this moment. I lean up on instinct and press my lips to his in a chaste, pure kiss of bliss and farewell. We remain kissing for a long moment, but have to break apart at some point, so we do.

"Goodnight, my lord." I reply, leaning my forehead against his tenderly, and then we reluctantly part ways.

A giddy smile graces my face as I change and lay down to sleep, and my dreams are filled with loving jade green eyes and bearded kisses.

=#=#=#=#=

The next morning, I awake with that same grin still in place.

Dear Dia (God), when had I become a soppy rom-com character?! Surprisingly, as I came out to enjoy the peace of the early morning, Aragorn came over to me as if he had been expecting me.

"If you are serious about learning to wield a sword, it would do you good to put as much time as possible to learning and practicing, particularly...now." He says, a shadow flickering over his eyes for a moment. I know what he's not saying aloud and nod. This time, it seems Eomer was lying in wait, as well, and approaches the door with us.

"Mind if I observe, Winnie?" He asks jovially. I smile.

"Of course! Though you may not wish be associated with me when you see how poor I am with a sword." I reply playfully. Eomer laughs.

"I sincerely doubt that anything would make me ashamed to be associated with you." I shrug as Eomer's arm wraps around my waist as easily as mine does around his.

"Then come, if that's okay, Aragorn?" The man nods and away we go.

Turns out, Eomer is something of a secret weapon, calling out tips and tricks that I try and use to my advantage. I last a few minutes longer than I normally do, and end up laughing in the dirt I am currently lying in. Aragorn nobly helps me up and we begin again, and this time Eomer has less to offer, but only because I take his previously given advice and put it to use.

"Truly, I do not know how it is you learn things so quickly, Rowena, but I welcome your advancement as a good sign." Aragorn says as we take a break. I laugh.

"Oh, I am far from any good with a sword still, but thanks. It means a lot that you're willing to do this." I reply genuinely. Aragorn sighs contentedly as he sits beside me.

"You are advancing well all the same. Most I have instructed would still struggle with the basic holds and stances at this stage, whereas you are already sparring." I crack a smile.

"I watched a lot of plays and things like that. I guess I was trying to imitate that."

"No wonder you keep falling." Aragorn notes, voice betraying the wry humor his face did not. "You cannot base your fighting style on some choreographed, practiced sequence. This is real life, unpracticed and spontaneous." I nod.

"Right."

"That being said, you are remarkably good at improvisation, Rowena."

=#=#=#=#=

It had been four days since then, morning's sunlight gracing Edoras with warm light to ward off night's chill. Aragorn and I had already had our usual sparring session for an hour or two. I had noted as soon as I'd walked out with the Ranger that Eomer, normally a constant presence of reassurance and guidance, was absent today for some reason, but couldn't dwell on it just yet.

Now that I could, I remember he'd said something about discussing tactics and strategies for the upcoming battle last night, so that's probably where he is. Ah, well.

Aragorn and I are currently enjoying a bowl of well-earned porridge before joining the day's activities, as usual.

And that was how I saw it, as I finished my porridge, chatting with my friend. Then, in the middle of a reply to a question about the Rangers Aragorn led (he'd been a bit more open lately with details on his past), the man froze, tensing and all but dropping his bowl.

"Aragorn?" I ask nervously. Aragorn's eyes widen and he suddenly (without explanation, might I add) takes off running toward Meduseld. "Aragorn!" I call after him, but it only takes a moment to realize, following the man's previous line of vision, what had made the Ranger react like that.

There, on one of the White Mountains (see? I took Seanathair's advice and have been studying maps in my spare time!) was a small pillar of flame that can only mean one thing: The Beacons of Minas Tirith had been lit.

Gondor was calling for aid. I took off running after Aragorn, catching up with him fairly quickly. Together, we heave the doors of Meduseld open and tear inside hastily.

"The Beacons of Minas Tirith are lit!" Aragorn and I scream as one, coming to a halt before the group of men gathered around a table.

"The Beacons are lit!" Aragorn repeats unnecessarily. "Gondor calls for aid!" He pants, the silence growing.

"And Rohan will answer!" Theoden calls. "Muster the Rohirrim!" Eomer nods grimly, as does the captains attending to the Lord of the Mark. They- -we- -know what's at stake.

We're likely going to our deaths. But we'll go anyway.

And I do mean we, myself included. No way in Ifreann I'd be left behind when things were this serious. Eomer exchanges a worried but determined look with Eowyn than me as he bows in deference to the King's orders. I give him a (hopefully) reassuring smile, and slip away to my room to prepare for the journey. It was a long way to Gondor and Minas Tirith.

However, when I finish packing my satchel, once more leaving the dress on the foot of my bed like a promise, I find Eomer outside my door.

"What are you doing?" He asks, frowning at my satchel. I cock a brow. Isn't it obvious?

"I'm packing."

"You are not going." He counters, refusing to let me by him.

"Eomer, don't be ridiculous. I am going, now please let me through."

"You are not going." He repeats, voice lower and more insistent, jaw and eyes set with determination. "If we are to die, I would not have you die, as well." I scowl at him.

"Isn't that my choice?" I ask. Suddenly, I am pressed against the wall and staring, somewhat frightened, into the darkened, shadowed eyes of the man I love, his strong hands on either side of my comparatively small frame. He seems so much bigger now than any other point in our acquaintance.

"I will not allow you to come." He insists, but there is something...desperate in his eyes and voice that makes me want to comfort him. But I know it wouldn't do any good, so I steel myself and take a stronger, possibly more dangerous route.

"Eomer...it is my choice as much as it is anyone else's. I know what's at stake, and I refuse to be shut up in this hall, pacing and twiddling my thumbs while I wait to see if anyone returns!" By the time I finish, my voice has risen slightly and I have a frown of irritation on my face. "This is a culture of fighting women, Eomer!" I say, thanking Iluvatar above for the argument I thought of in that moment. "How is this any different?" Eomer's eyes narrow and he leans in more, making me subconsciously shrink back slightly. He'd never been like this with me before. It was a bit startling but I was determined.

"If anything were to happen to you…" He whispers, forehead resting pleadingly against mine as his hands gently grip my shoulders, as if trying to call on my strength to aid him. "I...I can't…" I sigh.

"And just what do you think I am doing?" I counter, hand tenderly caressing his cheek. "If anything were to happen to you, when I know I can help prevent said 'anything'...I'd never forgive myself." Understanding seems to suddenly snap in our heads and we can only stand there in shock for a moment. Then, either of us know who begins it, but suddenly, we are kissing passionately, more hungrily than ever before and all rational thought leave me for a moment as Eomer once more presses me against the wall, our combined hunger enough to drive us to nearly sensual heights…

But we don't go too far. I pull away, panting heavily. "Eomer...I am coming to Minas Tirith." I insist as my thoughts come back to me. "I know it is not what you want, but...I can't just sit by and let myself cower away in this hall because it's easier than facing my fear." His hands cup my cheeks, smoothing my ruffled hair out of my face so softly, I swallow and nearly go back to kissing him.

"Marry me, then." He whispers genuinely, eyes and voice filled with passion and love. My eyes widen. What?