Disclaimer: We're on the 38th chapter and I still don't own LOTR. Alas and alack.

The summers here at Edoras were much cooler than those I was used to back on the plains, which made sense seeing as the city is on top of a mountain. I had to admit that it was awfully nice being able to train without having already broken into a sweat just walking to the yards. On the other hand, the thin air had really done a number on my stamina.

Éowyn had agreed to a sparring session, sword versus dagger, and we were having a good time trying to kill each other when Cenred showed up. I was already sweating buckets, but Éowyn looked cool as ever. I tried not to let it get to me, but her easy demeanor actually was pretty annoying, especially when combined with her constant taunts; she was one of those fighters who attacked their opponents verbally as well as physically.

"Cute move, Cousin! Maybe that would have fooled a five-year-old." The insult was accompanied by a swift slice at my ribs that would have split me right in two had it landed. Instead I dodged away, spinning around and out of reach, and went to launch myself at her back.

"I hate to interrupt, but a Herald has arrived," Cenred announced, stepping a little uncertainly into the training arena.

I stopped mid-blow and nearly lost my balance. Éowyn, on the other hand, finished her move's follow-through before facing him and asking, "An official Herald? not just a messenger?"

Meanwhile I flailed my arms wildly, left foot still off the ground. I tipped forwards and managed to get my foot down to (barely) prevent a face plant.

"Definitely a Herald," Cenred affirmed and then looked to me as if for direction. I scrambled to my feet and quickly stood up straight like Éowyn. "From Westfold."

I tugged my tunic into place and sheathed my daggers in a bid for time, using the moment to think about why exactly Sodred would be coming to Edoras in his official capacity so soon after leaving the city, especially since last time we'd spoken he hadn't wanted to leave Anwyn for a long, long time. The only good reason was for some diplomatic mission, but even then he wouldn't need the Herald unless he was bringing someone with—

OH NO. I stopped dead in my tracks, the last dagger hovering right above its sheath.

Cenred and Éowyn gave me wary looks.

I bit my lip and tried not to break into hysterics—whether frantic laughter or sobs, I wasn't sure. Béma was clearly going to have a field day over in Valinor; but at least someone will have fun with this…

"Saffi, what's going on?" Éowyn asked suspiciously. I must have been standing stock-still in the yard longer than I'd thought since she was now almost at the gate next to Cenred.

"My lady," he said slowly, "do you know what—or whom—your brother is heralding?"

I wondered how Elise would react when she found out: probably stand up and cheer. Hildmar, on the other hand, was not going to be happy with me at all. And Théodred? I could already imagine those blue eyes growing impossibly wide, full of shock and befuddlement.

"Saffi…" Éowyn took a wary step towards me.

I snapped out of my musings and focused. "Oh, no, I'm fine. I just realized—well, remembered—why Sodred's coming. And, if I'm right, then he most certainly made the right call: a Herald is definitely warranted."

Cenred blinked slowly. "Do I want to know? or should I wait for the Council meeting and be surprised with the rest of them?"

I bit my lip. "I think it would be better to wait and hear the news when it's been confirmed—and when we're all sitting down."

He considered this. "Right. I'd best be off, then. Princess Éowyn, Lady Sorenna," and then he was bustling away.

"And, I'm sorry, Éowyn," I hurriedly began before she could start interrogating me, "I really must speak to the Herald before I can say anything."

Her look towards me cooled slightly.

"What is it?"

"I don't like being kept in the dark, Saffi."

I shook my head. "I'm not keeping you in the dark. I just—I have a hunch right now, but until it's verified, I really don't think it's a good idea for me to share it with anyone. Don't want to go starting any riots. Well, not yet."

And on that cheery note, I hurried off into the Hall.

The herald waiting for me in one of the newly-renovated anterooms turned out to be a newly-trained Lyal, Ømund's younger brother. I hadn't known him very well back in Alricsloft, which meant that the meeting was pretty awkward from beginning to end. He kept shooting me odd looks the whole time; I think he was trying to figure out how a girl he'd never paid much attention to had won the affections of the King-to-be. Plus he was pretty shocked and frightened by his own news. The result was a lot of stilted sentences and one-word answers to my questions.

Once I'd finally gotten him to spill all the relevant details, I ended the meeting quickly and left him at table in the hall amongst the servants already up and breakfasting. Horse Lords, but I wished Théo were here. I didn't want to deal with this on my own. I didn't even know if I could deal with this on my own (not like there was much choice). And it didn't seem right for such important negotiations to begin without him present. But there was nothing for it—even the best horses could only gallop so fast, and the most I could do was send a messenger to Gondor with the news and hope that the funeral procession wouldn't take its sweet time coming back.

So instead I went back to my rooms to get dressed and to figure out how exactly to break it to the Council that Arnalit, Prince of the Dunlendings (i.e. Our-Mortal-Enemies-For-Time-Out-of-Mind), Chieftain of the Draig-Lûth Tribe, Slayer of Countless Eorlingas, etc., etc., was going to be staying in Edoras for peace negotiations.

The day's Council had originally been planned to be a short one since there hadn't been any new developments in the State of the Mark since two days ago; the only things going on were just a whole lot of farming as well as the final repairs chugging along like usual. After very short position reports, the lords looked ready to break for an early luncheon.

I wondered whether or not I should have had Hildmar bring food here since I doubted we would be leaving soon like everyone else thought. Then again, maybe it was best they didn't have extra things to throw at me.

I stood and tried to look calm and confident. The normal murmuring stopped as the men began to catch on that this was something important. Both Elise and Éowyn looked at me speculatively, Éowyn because of this morning, Elise because she just always suspected me on principle.

"I am sure you are all aware of the recent treaty between ourselves and the Dunlendings," I began. There were nods around the chamber.

Elise caught on first. I knew the moment when it happened since her mouth actually dropped open. Thankfully Éothain quickly nudged her and she closed it immediately. —Wait, Éothain? When did he start coming to meetings?

Apparently my pause had caught everyone's attention. "In accordance with the terms of this treaty, a contingent of Dunlendings led by their leader himself, Prince Arnalit, now approaches Edoras accompanied by the Western Ambassador, and they should arrive five days from now. Théodred King is expected to return within the fortnight. Thus we only have to establish the negotiations, not actually open them. This time—a grace period, if you will—gives all of us, Eorlingas and Dunlendings alike, time to get to know one another. It speaks much to the Dunlendings' commitment to the treaty that their Lord himself comes, not just assigned diplomats. I hope we can all commit as wholeheartedly to these negotiations as they."

Maybe it was that sentence itself which pushed them over the edge—or maybe it was just that the initial shock had finally worn off right about then. Either way, the room erupted just as I finished speaking.

"The Chieftain himself—"

"Only a day's notice!—"

"Dunlendings—"

"YOU INVITED THIS, THIS FILTH INTO OUR LANDS?" Oh great.

The room stilled as everyone turned towards the source of the outraged bellow. It was Lord Einar. He was not exactly the most kindly disposed toward Dunlendings. In his defense, they had killed his two eldest sons. Of course, he had gone on a murderous rampage immediately beforehand, so the Dunlendings probably felt the same way about him.

Right now he had fixed a rather murderous gaze on me. "Well?" he demanded.

"As things stand, what we call a treaty is really just a flimsy truce," I answered, trying to keep my voice level despite a racing heartbeat. "It's an agreement to pause hostilities that is contingent on our holding follow-up negotiations. So yes, I technically 'invited' the Dunlending leaders into our lands as part of the truce, and as a result they did not participate in the Battle of Helm's Deep—and have not taken part in any hostilities since then." I sat and glanced over toward Lord Oslac, who was one of Erkenbrand's friends and often represented his interests in Council.

Oslac briefly stood and verified my assertion (he wasn't much for speechmaking), which set the lords muttering again. I waited.

"What about the coronation?" Lord Cynulf demanded. "It will be difficult enough figuring out how to deal with the Gondorian delegation as well, but if the negotiations fall through… I understand that the treaty called for a meeting, but why now? I know you believe this chief is favorably disposed toward us, but what if he is not? or if among his party there are some from a tribe who do not agree? There could be much ill done at such an important time as Théoden King's burial and the coronation." It was not an unreasonable fear—if one assumed that the Dunlendings didn't at all wish for peace. Plus I was pretty sure that Arnalit wasn't nearly as stupid as to bring anyone who might even consider such acts.

Cynulf's speech was followed by a chorus of "aye"s, and several men rose to voice their agreement. I had to counter this. "As I said, the treaty in place right now is little more than a temporary cease, and it means nothing without follow-up meetings, the very negotiations we are discussing now. And I can say from personal experience that Prince Arnalit isn't the sort to bring belligerents to a meeting at which he has far more to lose than we." I sank back into my seat, my leg twitching with nervousness.

Cenred spoke next, casting a gimlet eye around the room before starting. "…I understand your concerns. And I admit that I share some of them. But let us face reality; the preliminary treaty is already made, and the chieftain on his way. We do not have to kowtow before them. We just have to be polite."

Elise shot up as soon as he finished, cutting off any potential naysayers. Many around the room leaned forward to hear what such an unknown had to say; a few looked skeptical that the Adviser on trade could have anything worthwhile to say about politics. She began bluntly in direct continuation of Cenred's point. "My lords, the Mark is in a position of strength at these negotiations, and the Dunlendings know it. What we have right now is the opportunity to not just strike back at the threat they pose but rather eliminate it once and for all. And not through wanton slaughter, killing innocent babes in fear of what they might one day grow up to be, but rather to join our peoples so that the Dunlendings will never want to make war. So that our countries' merchants will have price wars instead of real ones."

There was a long moment while she let the words sink in. I looked around to judge reactions.

Einar made to rise; Oslac leaned around the two men in between them and laid a restraining hand on Einar's arm. They shared a long look before Einar acquiesced and sat back. Instead Cynulf broke the silence without getting up.

"Lady Sorenna—you are the only person in this room who has actually spoken with this Prince Arnalit. I do not doubt your word, my lady; but surely you understand how difficult it is for me, for many of us, to go forward when we are, in effect, riding blind."

I leaned forward across the table, reaching forward slightly. "Lord Cynulf, I know how difficult it is. But I sincerely believe—I know—that we can do this."

He held my gaze. I was tense as a bowstring but did my best not to let it show. Then, after what seemed an eternity, Cynulf bent his head towards me stiffly. "Do you believe there should be particular …entertainments for our guests?"

"I am not entirely sure," I said cautiously. "My impression of Arnalit does not lead me to believe that he would particularly enjoy over-the-top programming, not to mention that such activities aren't really feasible for us right now anyway. But I am less than experienced in matters of high state. I am sure you lords most likely have an idea of fitting activities."

Cynulf bowed slightly in acknowledgment of my olive branch. Einar was still staring at the floor with an unreadable expression.

After a long moment of silence, Cenred inquired a bit drily whether anyone else had an important announcement to make. Hearing a chorus of emphatic nos, the Council meeting adjourned at last, with half of the lords (Einar included) rushing out of the chamber and the rest going more slowly than usual as if still somewhat stunned by the news.

I was dawdling in the corridor in order to wait up for Elise when Éowyn tapped me on the arm. I looked up.

"I can see why you did not want to say anything this morning before getting confirmation," she said.

I nodded. For some reason I felt slightly dizzy.

"I hope—Béma, Saffi, starting out Queenship with a bang!" She was staring at me with absolute seriousness. "You do realize that you have just staked your entire reputation on these negotiations?"

"I had some idea, yeah," I muttered. In fact I had all too good a comprehension of just how much was riding on these negotiations. If they fell through, or if anything untoward happened, then whatever political credibility I might have gained from the original treaty would be nothing better than a stinking pile of horse poo. Worse, it would most likely cause a loss of support for Théodred.

As the full ramifications sank in, I tried to figure out if there had been any way to prevent this. Nothing came to mind except perhaps not making the treaty with Arnalit, and there was no way I wouldn't do that again. A curse on Arnalit for taking his own initiative, I thought and then couldn't help but smile crookedly at my own failed logic. There was no way to control Arnalit, and hadn't I just been agreeing with his reasoning only a few hours ago?

There was nothing left but to hope for the best. Well, that and prepare the best guest rooms we had to offer. Then I thought about how Hildmar was going to take the news and winced.

The hot summer sun beat down on us, soaking into my hair and making me want to throw back my head to better absorb its warmth. Down below on the sun-baked plains grain waved gently as far as the eye could see, the undulations slightly distorted by the haze of heat. Knowing firsthand just how hot it could get down there, I wondered whether Brego had decided to build here on top of the mountain not for any security reasons but simply to escape the summer heat.

I was so glad that we were awaiting Arnalit at Meduseld and not riding to meet him down in the heat, especially with this stupid circlet thing that everyone had insisted I wear. Even Einar had perked up when he first saw it, but I personally didn't see what the big deal was since it was brand-new. Apparently Théodred was the first ever of our rulers to not have gotten married before becoming King, so there had never before been a need for some sort of special jewelry for the King's Betrothéd to wear. I had to admit that it was a nice circlet—plain silver with no ornamentation, identical to Éowyn's except that hers was gold—but it still felt odd, as though I were just a little girl playing dress up in someone else's clothes.

A murmur through the small crowd below, lining the roadway to Meduseld's steps, brought me out of my musings, and I strained to make out anything in the haze on the plain. And sure enough, those black dots were now sharpening into actual figures, namely a band of riders about 15-20 strong. My stomach decided now was the time to start doing flips, not aided by the fact that Éowyn decided it was a good time to remark offhand, "Well, at least you look calm, Saffi…"

I sure didn't feel calm. I felt horrible. What if this was all a terrible mistake? What if I completely failed and somehow we ended up doing something stupid like granting the entire Westfold to the Dunlendings? What if Einar and Arnalit got into a fistfight? Worse, what if Théo and Arnalit got into a fistfight?

I could feel people shifting around behind me. At first I thought it was just because everyone was putting on their best Official Stance, but then I realized they'd been making room for someone to get through: namely, Elise. She grabbed my left hand with hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Listen, Saffi, Sodred's coming with them. So whenever things get tense, we can just throw him in there and confuse everybody into cooperation!" I couldn't help but giggle a bit at this, especially since a few years ago it hadn't been unknown for Father to do exactly that whenever us kids were about to start fighting.

At Éowyn's sharp look I immediately sobered up. Elise let go of my hand, her work done, and I stood up a bit straighter, my confidence back. We can do this. Béma be willing…

Watching them ride the long, long track up the mountainside was agonizing, so after a bit I stopped looking at them and instead focused on a spot of grass about twenty feet away from the steps (so as to seem as if I really were looking at them when they arrived). It seemed like I had forever to stare at that grass.

And then suddenly there they were. My gaze latched onto Sodred first. He looked brown and healthy and as rosy as usual, and, perhaps most important of all, he seemed to be genuinely smiling. We made eye contact, and his smile widened into a full blinding grin. I felt Elise relax next to me.

Directly on Sodred's right came Arnalit. He looked better than when I'd last seen him—although that wasn't really saying much seeing as he'd been all bandaged and barely even walking. But now he looked bronzed, clean, and very well-dressed. He, along with the rest of his men (I counted eleven, including Gwyddon), looked at us curiously but with no apparent hostility. Arnalit's gaze flitted from face to face, resting on Elise, noting Éowyn, and then settling on me. I could tell the exact moment when he recognized me: his eyes widened comically, and his mouth actually dropped open for a good five seconds. Then he blinked and looked again. I gave a little wave. I couldn't see very well from this distance, but I think one of his eyes might have twitched very briefly. Then he shot Sodred an exceedingly accusatory glare. It seemed being Ambassador and Headman hadn't much changed my brother; he had always been a little too fond of the dramatic reveal.

I hurriedly wiped the smirk off my face and began to carefully make my way down the steps—carefully, not because the steps were tricky or anything, but in order to go at just the right speed, not too fast (to show I was in control of the situation) and not too slow (since that would be rude). I stopped on the third step from the bottom, and my smaller entourage (Éowyn, Cenred, and Eadric) halted right behind me.

We only had to wait for about three seconds before the group arrived. They looked hot. Even the horses looked hot. But heat notwithstanding, Sodred hopped down immediately, bouncy as ever, right ahead of the stable hands who arrived to take the mounts. He was still grinning infectiously, and I couldn't help but shoot him a grin in response before relaxing into (what I hoped was) a welcoming smile.

"Princess Éowyn, King's Betrothéd Saffi, Lord Cenred: may I present Arnalit, Prince of the Dunlendings and Chieftain of the Draig-Lûth Tribe," Sodred announced in Westron with a very proper flourish. I blinked (when did he learn manners?) and smiled at all of Arnalit's men.

"Well met Prince Arnalit, my lords," I spoke the ritual greeting. "Welcome to Edoras, and welcome to our Hall."

"Thank you, Lady Saffi," Arnalit drawled, apparently over his shock (at least for now). "We are most grateful for such hospitality."

According to Lord Oslac the next appropriate move would have been to haughtily raise the back of my hand to be kissed, but somehow I managed to immediately forget all my etiquette lessons. Instead I instinctively put out my hand to clasp arms like soldiers would, as equals. This made Arnalit smile, which was good since it made him actually look like a decent person.

He introduced his companions—Gwyddon, two chieftains, four of his elite personal guard, and five lords—and then we accompanied them up the stairs. We'd barely made it halfway up before Arnalit turned to me and muttered accusatorily, "So... you just know King Théodred, huh?"

I grinned. "Well, I do know him. Very well, in fact."

He shook his head mournfully. "Alas, if only I'd known then! I could have gotten a king's ransom—literally! And instead we let you two ride away free as the birds, just like that…"

From behind us came a slight choking noise. It sounded suspiciously like Cenred. At that Arnalit's mouth twitched; he seemed to be trying very hard not to smirk. I felt torn between disproving of Arnalit's behavior and wholeheartedly agreeing with the sentiment.

Yes, it sure was going to be a fun month… When was Théodred supposed to get back again?

A/N: Going by the appendices/lotr wikia, every single ruler of Rohan had one or more son born before their reigns began. So unless the kings of Rohan all had a bunch of kids out of wedlock and then declared them legitimate (not individually impossible but still rather unlikely), then every single one of them up until Éomer got married before becoming king. I was actually kinda hoping that Théodred wouldn't be the odd man out, but alas, no such luck.

Also, I searched and searched (read: went past page 2 on Google) but couldn't find any 'legit' Welsh tribe names (well, there's a bunch from the Roman period, but they all sound very Latin and un-Middle Earth-y), so finally I went with one of the tribe names used in LOTRO, which I've never even considered playing but apparently has whole tomes of world info. way beyond anything Tolkien ever put to paper. According to the LOTRO wiki I found it on, the tribe name Draig-Lûth means 'dragon.' I think Arnalit would approve.