Healing took its time. Though Éomer did his best to check his temper and impatience, he was grumpy more often than not. But just as often she'd remind herself she would probably be just as anxious had she been the one in recovery. Lothíriel could imagine how it was, when one's body did not quite keep up with one's mind, and when his broken arm would slow him down in everyday chores. However, it could not be helped. The only thing that would heal Éomer's injuries was time.

But if he were anxious for full recovery, Lothíriel could feel that his brush with death had also made him solemnly ponder many things. He would watch his children quietly, his dark eyes shadowed in deep musings, and she could only imagine what thoughts passed in his mind.

Eventually, he did speak to her what sounded like some kind of a resolution. The actual words he had already delivered to her in a number of forms, as he had apologised several times, but now she felt there was much more behind them.

"I promise this was the only time I leave you in that position. You won't have to bear the crown alone ever again", he swore to her gravely. And, realising now was not the right time, she refrained from pointing out they could not know what future would bring.

Be it as may, he was getting stronger with each day that passed, and after the recent misfortune there were more good news to be heard: Ceolwen was with child again. Cheerfully the Shieldmaiden reported to Lothíriel that apparently Elfhelm had been most impressed by little Elfhild, and was more or less praying for a daughter.

"I hope so too. Not only would I like a daughter of my own, but I imagine everyone would enjoy watching a little girl have my dear husband running and dancing at her barest whim", Ceolwen humorously commented, making her friend burst out laughing.

Then she frowned, and Lothíriel could never decide if her words were serious or not: "Say, do you think something could be arranged between our daughter and Elfwine? Otherwise, I don't think she's ever going to get a husband whom Elfhelm approves of."

But Ceolwen and her Marshal were not the only ones to expect an addition to their family: Éowyn wrote a cheerful letter to her brother, announcing that she and Faramir were also expecting another child. When Éomer had read the message and he was busy pretending he wasn't fighting his tears, he muttered, "Béma, you never get used to it, do you?"

Life took another step towards normalcy when the healers announced the King was fully healed, much to his own and general happiness – though it meant some arduous times for the riders of Edoras. After the weeks of having to check himself Éomer was dying to let out some steam, and to get back into his usual shape. As a result, one could see riders in Meduseld, nursing their bruises but looking generally relieved that their lord was again among them. With a grin, Lothíriel commented to her beloved, "I swear, I've never seen men who are more delighted to take a beating."

Her words made him laugh heartily, but in the silence of her thoughts she was just glad: being able to return to his ordinary routine had greatly improved his mood and with it, the atmosphere of Meduseld was also lightened. Still, Lothíriel did not forget for one moment how close it had been that they had lost this.

But if there were good news in the realm, and a promise of new life, there were some rather bizarre tidings as well. These came to Lothíriel in a letter from her father, which he had sent from Minas Tirith on his way home.

The letter had arrived midday, but she had been too busy to read anything additional, and so she had saved it for later. When her children were fed and bathed, and their father was playing with them on the floor, she settled down to read the letter from Gondor.

The first part of his message was mostly things one would expect to hear, though the tone was off and she began to wonder if all was well with him. At least during his stay in Edoras he had not given any sign of being unwell, and Lothíriel had not sensed anything strange about him.

However, halfway through the letter, she got all the explanation for his tone and more.

Éomer noticed fairly quickly that something in the letter had shocked her. She could but imagine into what kind of an expression her face had frozen as she stared at the sentence before her eyes.

"What is it?" he asked, reaching to touch her knee, "Has something happened in Gondor?"

"... you could say that, yes", she spoke at length, as it took a moment to find her voice. She looked straight at her husband, who sat on the floor holding Elfhild while Elfwine was busy building what looked like a stable for his wooden horses.

Lothíriel cleared her throat and glanced at the letter one more time, if just to make sure one more time that she had read correctly.

"Amrothos has got married."


Late September 5, Minas Tirith

The trip to the White City was Éomer's first longer journey after his recovery. His queen was jittery about the affair, though she didn't say anything. She too knew he had been postponing this visit far too long: he wanted to see Elessar's heir both as an allied king and as a close friend of Aragorn. Moreover, too much time had passed since he had last seen Éowyn and her family. Lothíriel understood all this, and she kept her silence, but in her gaze he could see her concern. And that was no wonder after all he had put her through.

Be it as may, she asked him to deliver some letters to friends and family in Gondor, wished him a safe journey, and kissed him goodbye.

When he pulled back fom her embrace, he had no idea it would be months before he would see her again.

As Edoras fell behind, Éomer wondered if it would ever get easier to leave behind his family, or if it would always tear at his heart so deeply. The years that had passed since the Kin-strife had not brought change, and as long as their children were still young, he would have to ride without his queen.

Fixing his mind ahead, to the prospect of seeing Éowyn and Aragorn, lightened his mood eventually. It would be good to see them again, and reassure them all was well. Éowyn's letters especially had been frantic – she had even been talking about travelling to the Mark, but he had done his best to console her and insist she needn't make the long journey. He knew Faramir would talk her out of it, remind her it was not safe when she was with child.

The road to the White City was just as long as he remembered, but eventually he reached his destination. The welcome he received from Aragorn was warm as always. The man smiled brightly as he approached his fellow king, his arms wide open, "Good to see you, brother. You have been sorely missed in the city."

"Likewise, Aragorn. It's been too long", Éomer replied with a smile when he had dismounted. Aragorn's stablemen never tried to touch Silfren – instead, there was one man to show way to Éomer's esquire, who would take care of the stallion.

When his friend reached to embrace him, the younger of the two kings noticed how careful his grip was. Wryly he looked at Aragorn.

"Really, I'm fine. There's no need to worry anymore", he told the man before him; as an answer, he received a sheepish little smile.

"Of course. I was just very worried about you", Aragorn said softly.

"I'm sorry. It was stupid and careless and it won't happen again", Éomer said, trying hard not to grimace but not quite succeeding – he wondered when he'd stop feeling guilty about the unfortunate affair. Yet these were words not between two kings, but between two friends to whom each other's well-being was not an idle matter.

"It's all right, brother. We all make mistakes against our best intentions", Aragorn brushed the matter away as graciously as could be expected of him. Then he insisted his friend get some rest and have a bath after his long journey, and Éomer allowed himself to be lead inside the King's House.

About an hour later, he was introduced to the Crown Prince of Arnor and Gondor. The child regarded the world with his mother's eyes, but in his nose and cheeks Éomer thought he could see more of the likeness of Aragorn himself. Even so, he felt like he could almost perceive Arwen's ancestry on the babe's face. He had seen many children these past few years, but none quite like Eldarion. While Elrond's daughter might have chosen a mortal life, in the veins of her children the ancient blood of Eldar ran strong.

Glancing at the proud parents, he could not miss how they beamed. Arwen seemed to fill the very room with her radiance, and Aragorn looked happier than Éomer had ever seen the man. As they spoke, their voices were full of love and light; often it seemed they existed in their own blissful world, which he was merely glimpsing through glass. On the other hand, he knew full well it was all more than deserved, and the long, troubled years which they had endured to come into this place.

He knew how much Lothíriel would have wanted to be here, too, and to himself he thought he would have to ask about that artist who had drawn Faramir and Elboron for his queen. Perhaps, if Aragorn and Arwen allowed, he could take a portrait of Eldarion and his older sister to Rohan once he returned home.

Their conversations travelled on relaxed paths, but also reached for the future: Aragorn suggested that once their sons would be old enough, perhaps they could spend a while in each others' capitals.

"Then they would learn to know better each others' peoples, their ways and traditions, so that the alliance between Gondor and Rohan may grow ever stronger. In time, our sons will hold this friendship just as dear as we do", Aragorn said, smiling as he spoke.

The younger of the two kings had to smile too: it was good to think that their sons might grow and live in a world much less harsh than they had known.

They stayed up late that night, talking and laughing over glasses of wine. Aragorn promised he would repay this visit next spring, and maybe then head north to visit Arnor for the first time during his rule.

"These past few years have been quite mad. More so than I expected, in fact", said Aragorn as he sat back after pouring more wine to their glasses.

"Aye, tell me about it", Éomer muttered and crossed his legs, "yet I'm glad to have lived them."

Aragorn met his eyes quietly, knew what he meant. A silent moment of understanding passed between them.

"Do you still have dreams about it?" asked his friend, his voice soft enough to imply an answer was not necessary, not if Éomer did not wish to give it.

"Occasionally", said the younger king at length. "But when I wake up, she is there, and I remember all the good and fair that has come into my life since we came home."

Elessar smiled.

"I'm glad to hear that, though I always knew you'd eventually overcome it", he said and settled back on his seat more comfortably. His words made the Rohir scoff softly.

"And naturally you would trust me even when I didn't trust myself", he muttered with a shake of his head and took a long sip of his wine.

His words only made his friend's smile grow wider.

"I know you, brother. And that means I never doubt you."


Éowyn and her family arrived in Mundburg the very next day. Faramir sent a messenger from Harlond, bringing to a close the late breakfast Éomer had shared with Aragorn and his family. Eager to meet his sister as soon as possible, he excused himself and made his way to the Court of the Fountain to wait for her arrival. His anxiety grew as he walked and sharply mixed with a realisation just how much he had missed her. It had been too long since they had seen each other.

Once their carriage arrived – a pregnant woman had no business being in the saddle – Éowyn more or less burst outside and as soon as her searching eyes had spotted him, she came striding to her brother. By her expression, he knew he was in trouble. Again.

"Brother! Why must you insist on tormenting me so!" she exclaimed in their own tongue.

"I'm sorry -" he had time to utter, and then he was grabbed in a tight hug.

In a litany of scoldings, he was informed just how stupid and irresponsible and hopeless he was, and he he got no chance to answer her questions on how didn't Lothíriel just lose her mind with him, and whatever had his sister done to deserve to be startled like this? He listened to her rant in silence, and eventually his lack of response made her slow down and fall silent.

Éowyn pulled back and looked at him, scowling as she did.

"Well? Aren't you going to give me some ridiculous and insane excuse, like you used to back when you were still a Marshal?" she demanded to know.

His smile was without humour.

"No. I'm not. I'm aware it was unwise and reckless. Yes, I should have been more careful, and I will be in the future. No, I don't know how she bears with me – but I thank the Powers every day that she does", he answered, meeting her gaze steadily. "I am sorry to have caused concern."

Éowyn said nothing in a long while. She simply stared at him, and if there had been anxious energy in her grey eyes, it was now long gone.

"Éothain already lectured you, didn't he?" she asked at last.

"Aye, he did", Éomer answered. Though they had made peace, the memory of his friend's outburst was not something he would forget... nor forgive himself the actions which had caused it.

His sister frowned briefly, and then reached to hug him again.

"Well, the important thing is you are all right", she said, her voice starting brisk but falling quiet towards the end of the sentence. After a moment's silence she spoke again, but now it was but a murmur, "I'm sorry for yelling at you like that, brother. I was just really scared, and... I don't think I could bear it anything happened to you."

"I know, sister", he said quietly, "I know."


On the second night of his stay, Aragorn organised a ball in the honour of his Rohirric friend. As he got ready for the occasion, Éomer thought wryly how odd it was to be partaking the ball without Lothíriel. But it also brought back memories of the time after Sauron had fallen, and he smiled fondly to himself.

In Merethrond there already was a crowd when he arrived a while later. He saw many familiar faces: men he had fought with before the gates of the Black Land, their wives and families, and those he had met during his visits to the White City. There were new, younger faces as well. These were the new generation of young nobility of Gondor, and some of them had been but children at the time of the War of the Ring.

When he joined Aragorn, he received a quizzical look from his friend.

"Is something amiss, brother? You had this strange look on your face", said the older of the two kings. Of course he would notice, the old fox!

Éomer gave a crooked smile to his fellow ruler.

"It's just bewildering to realise you're not as young as you used to be", he said and shook his head. "Then again, I suppose it's different for you. Time doesn't mean the same thing for your kin and mine."

"Be it as may, we are all bound by the time, and what has been will not return", Aragorn said quietly. Both of them knew very well how true that was. Éomer's mood might have become melancholy, but the arrival of another pair of guests effectively prevented that. The herald's voice echoed over the crowd, making him slightly tenser.

"Prince Amrothos of Dol Amroth and the Lady Nehir!"

The couple that then came striding were like the moon and the sun. Amrothos was arrayed in the traditional blue and silver of his family, his attire as fashionable as always, but Lady Nehir's appearance blazed with crimson and gold. Yet though the colours she wore were bold and bright, the design of her loose trousers and tunic was very simple, and the only piece of jewellery on her was a plain golden chain around her neck. Really, the contrast between the two could not have been stronger.

Éomer's brother-in-law nodded at him and so did the woman by his side, but at first they made their way to greet Aragorn and Arwen, the royal host and hostess of the ball. Quietly the King of the Mark watched them and wondered what to make out of this unlikely match. Amrothos' face did not quite bear the good cheer he remembered from a time before, and Lady Nehir's expression was even more inscrutable. Usually, Éomer fancied himself someone with a keen ability to read people, but now he had trouble seeing what really was going on with his wife's brother and the woman from Rhûn.

Once the pair had seen to the demands of courtesy, they turned to approach the King of the Mark. Both bowed their heads to show their respect to Elessar's northern ally.

"Amrothos", Éomer greeted, and then looked at the woman beside him – somehow, it was difficult to think of her as Amrothos' wife, and even more bewildering it was to think they were now related through their respective spouses. Truly life was bizarre: here was his most recent kinswoman, and she was no one else than the sister of a man who had tried to kill Éomer's own wife! Be it as may, he offered her a smile, "Lady Nehir. I must admit this is not how I thought to meet you again."

"It was unplanned for me as well, my lord", she answered and glanced at the Amrothian prince by her side. While the glance lasted, a smile also lingered on her face.

"I trust you have been well since we last met?" Éomet asked – the question was more or less directed at them both. Though he was curious about the events which had brought Nehir to Gondor, he deemed it would not have been polite to ask about it so bluntly.

"Yes, we have been", Amrothos answered for them both, and Nehir was silent. The prince frowned slightly, "I'm sure you have heard this to the point of exhaustion, but I hope you have recovered well after... well, after what happened."

"Aye, I have. Thank you for your concern", Éomer replied stiffly. The prince had been right – he had got quite enough of this topic. His brother-in-law noticed that and quickly spoke again.

"How are Lothíriel and the children?" he asked, and this question made the King of the Mark smile again.

"They are well. Elfwine would have wanted to come along – he said he wanted to see his 'Uncle Amo'. I'm afraid he was rather disappointed with me when I told him he has to watch over Meduseld. And Elfhild is growing fast these days. She's already moving a lot, and if she's awake she seems to be always making noise."

He could have talked about his children for hours, but decided to tone down the amount of fatherly gushing for the time being. Nevertheless, his words made Amrothos grin, and suddenly he was just that same carefree prince Éomer had grown to know after the Great War had ended.

After exchanging pleasantries and the most immediate tidings of family, the Rohir looked at the Amrothian prince keenly, and he spoke the words he had been saving ever since his arrival in Mundburg: "If it would be fine by you, I would like to talk with you in private."

Imrahil's son glanced at his wife, who merely smiled and said she'd find out if Queen Arwen could share a few tales of her Elven kin, and striding lightly she left the two men alone. Out of a silent agreement they began to walk slowly, tracing the left side of the great hall with their feet. As they made way, Amrothos accepted a glass of wine from a servant and let out a soft sigh.

"Lothíriel asked you to talk with me, didn't she?" he said after a moment's silence.

"Aye. She was as surprised as anyone. And she was concerned if you are all right", Éomer replied.

"Oh, I am fine. Finer than in some time, to be honest. I know how this all must seem, and I didn't plan any of it, but... well, you must tell her it's all right. She needn't worry", Amrothos said and smiled slightly.

"She thought Nehir might be using you – try to get some revenge on you when you're alone", said the King of the Mark warily.

Now his brother-in-law chuckled softly.

"Believe me, if she had been looking for revenge, she would have been able to take it already multiple times. She's had plenty of chances. No, this is not about revenge – though it does have to do with her family", Amrothos said and shook his head.

Éomer lifted his eyebrows, and the question must have been obvious on his face, as the younger man went on.

"When Nehir came here, she said everything had changed with the death of her brother. It was all her living siblings talked about... she couldn't stand their anger and venomous spite any longer. She wanted to move on, live and enjoy the freedom Rhûn has now, but she quickly saw it would not be possible as long as she stayed with her kin. And she said she kept thinking of me..." he explained, and his voice became soft and warm. He glanced at where Nehir stood with Queen Arwen, like a brilliant flame of fire.

"Neither of us planned this, Éomer. But that night when she found me here in the city, it was just... I don't know. It made sense, you see? And among her people, when a woman shares a man's bed, sleeps next to him, and eats his food on the next morrow, it's considered they are a lawful husband and a wife", he explained and took a sip of his wine. His incredulous look did not escape Éomer's notice.

"Did she explain this to you as well, before she did all those things?" he inquired anyway.

"Oh, she was very clear about it. To be honest, I was a bit drunk when she did, but not too drunk to understand", Amrothos said lightly, and Éomer had to exercise a fair amount of restraint not to shake his head. Even Lothíriel on her most scatterbrained moments could not compete with her brother!

"And what does Imrahil say?" he asked. It was hard to imagine his father-in-law should approve of this. Least of all he should enjoy his youngest son showing his so called wife around in the court.

"Oh, he wasn't very happy when he found out. But he accepts it, even if doesn't approve", Amrothos said and shrugged, nearly spilling wine over himself, but he was able to steady his glass. "I suppose he was concerned about me too. Elbereth, would everyone just stop being concerned already?!"

"They are your family. They have every right to drive you mad with their fussing, and they are going to do it, whether you like it or not", Éomer said dryly, at which his brother-in-law snorted loudly. But then Amrothos let out a small sigh.

"In any case, Father can accept it. He already has his heir and his mariner son. He has his brilliant daughter who went and saved a kingdom. But me? I can be spared for such a marriage. Not to mention, Aragorn said he supports it. He thinks it could improve the relations between our people and those of Nehir's. So even if Father wasn't overjoyed to hear I had married her, he doesn't complain either", he explained at length and stared at his glass as though it held an answer to some great mystery.

"The point is", the prince continued, looking up at Éomer again, "I'm happy with her. Maybe this thing doesn't make much sense, but it does make me feel so much better than I have in past couple years. I finally feel like I have a purpose, even if it's just loving her."

The Rohir did not respond right away. He mulled over Amrothos' words, and he found he could understand them very well. Hadn't Lothíriel made him just the same, mad and love-sick and ready to make a woman he believed to be a commoner his queen just for the love of her? Hadn't loving her been his purpose for a time, the reason to try and stay intact when the ghosts of the south had still haunted him day and night?

Amrothos seemed to know he understood, even agreed in a way. The prince smiled.

"You ought to sympathise, no? You married my sister", he said humorously.

"Aye, I did. And it was the best thing that has ever happened to me", Éomer stated. Amrothos nodded.

"Then maybe Nehir will come to be the same thing for me."


After one one and a half week's time, the King's Company was preparing to ride back home. Time had passed by fast in meetings and with family – Éomer was especially glad for having a chance to catch up with Éowyn, and to get to know her son a bit better. But after a time road called him back home, and with his men he readied for the journey ahead.

However, on the night before his departure, Faramir and Éowyn insisted they eat dinner together, and the Steward's House filled with friends and family. Amrothos and Nehir were present, as were Aragorn and Arwen. Legolas had joined them as well: he had travelled from Ithilien with Éowyn and Faramir, and would accompany Éomer on his way back to Rohan. From Edoras, the Elf would continue his journey to Gimli's abode to visit his Dwarven friend.

To the King of the Mark, it seemed that the wife of his brother-in-law fit in this company remarkably well, and she laughed with others and occasionally took part in conversations, and Arwen especially made effort to include her in the socialising. He did not miss the fond looks she would exchange with Amrothos, whose expression was best described as smitten. If the two had seemed reserved in the ball, it was now all gone; perhaps all it had been about was simply their shared anxiety at appearing before a society which did not necessarily approve of their union.

At any rate, Éomer was now feeling he could tell Lothíriel not to worry about her brother. In their own curious way the pair seemed to be content, and he was sure she'd see that too. To further reassure her, he had invited Amrothos and Nehir to visit them in the Mark, and the two had promised to travel as soon as Elphir was able to return to Minas Tirith.

Altogether the evening was a very pleasant one, and Éomer hoped Lothíriel had been present as well. He thought of how unfair it was, that she was always the one to stay behind. Yet she never complained or tried to make him stay.

The thought might have turned his mood darker, but then Elboron climbed into his lap, and the child wanted to hear stories about heroes of his mother's birth land; this was a request Éomer happily fulfilled.

The night was turning late and he was in the middle of bidding good night to Amrothos and Nehir when the message arrived. From the corner of his eye he saw one of the servants approaching Faramir, and then Aragorn. A frown briefly visited on Elessar's face and he got up on his feet, following the servant outside. Éomer looked at Arwen and sought her features for any clue as to whether something was wrong, but her expressions remained difficult to read, even after past few years when he had grown to know her a bit better. Still, he could see he was not the only one who had noticed something was off: his sister and both brothers-in-law looked around each other just as tensely as he felt.

Aragorn did not leave them waiting for long. He returned to the hall, his face void of the good cheer of before.

"Has something happened?" Éomer asked his friend right away, knowing he was speaking out loud a question which was in the minds of all present.

"Yes, you could say that", Aragorn said, his voice grave and quiet, "A messenger just returned from east. Rhûn is marching to war."


A/N: Here's an update for Friday! I hope you will have a great weekend, my dear readers. :)

I think it made sense both to Amrothos and Nehir to get together. Their decision to get married may be a hurried one, and maybe that will cause problems, but I have a feeling they have both felt misplaced and alone long enough to seek shelter with each other in such a way. Like Amrothos explains to Éomer, Imrahil hasn't tried to undo it because he doesn't really need to. But the more important reason is probably that Imrahil has watched how unhappy his youngest son has grown, and so anything that can bring back that old, carefree Amrothos is a good thing in his eyes. Éomer has his doubts at first, but he is the man who married Lothíriel, so he resolves he can actually understand it better than most.

As for the situation in Rhûn... well, let's just say it was simply a matter of time!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!


brandibuckeye - Thank you! :)

Jo - If they only knew how! But that conversation may have to wait, seeing there is another war coming now. Anyway, I'm glad you liked it! :)