Hi again! Thank you all for putting up with my very hectic life and horrible posting timeline. I have really thought a lot about this story, and wanted to make sure that I can to you the best version of it possible, so while the story is very much finished in my head, it needs lots of editing and pruning.

Please enjoy! Let me know what you think.


Chapter 16


Lothíriel could feel her heart racing as she stepped away from the study. It was almost noon, and she should be heading to the tourney grounds, but she could not shake what Lord Pelendur had just said.

"The people of Rohan are starving, and Éomer can do nothing."

Her feet were moving of their own accord as she wrung her hands together. He is lying, she thought. He has heard news of Éomer from his son and wants to sow seeds of discord. But how could he make up such a lie? There had to be a grain of truth to it; even Pelendur would not be so bold as to make up something out of nothing in front of the Prince of Dol Amroth.

She was almost out of the seventh pinnacle now, the world moving as if a blur around her. Could it be true? Could the people of Rohan be starving?

And if they were, what was their king doing here, in Minas Tirith, about to allow his soldiers to participate in a tourney, of all things? He had said he wanted to re-establish trade routes with Gondor, but how could he possibly be away from his people in their time of need?

And he had flirted with her!

Had Dol Amroth ever come close to starving, Lothíriel could hardly imagine herself traveling to a different realm, idling her time away.

Her mind flitted to a small detail.

She had not known much about the War of the Ring other than what was happening in Gondor, for she had not always been privy to her father's dealings with the outside world, but she did remember some things.

Early in the war, news had come that Théoden's only son, Théodred, had been killed in battle. He had been Théoden's heir. Éomer was next in line for the throne. Could it be that he had never been taught to rule? Was he completely lost as a leader?

She shut that thought from her mind.

No. Éomer had said that the Rohirrim were only staying a fortnight before going back to Rohan. My country needs me, he had said. Then, perhaps, he really was just here to establish trade routes to help Rohan.

But why did he not tell me?

She banished that thought as well. Stupid girl, she admonished herself. Why would he tell you such a thing? You have barely known him for a week! And yet, he had asked her to go to Rohan with him.

She sighed.

It would take a miracle for her father to say yes.

But really, with her brothers back, did he still need her?

Before she could think more on that topic, she realized that she was nearing the tourney grounds. She could hear the chatter and smell the roasted meats from the stalls the merchants had set up. The tourney grounds were open to the public, and while she was not sure when the word had spread about the archery competition, she could see that the stands were beginning to fill.

The commoner entrance, just twenty or so feet from where she stood, housed a long line, many of the people having taken the day off to see the competition.

Lothíriel could understand why.

Since the War of the Ring, there had not been many tourneys—who needed to play at war when there was a real one going on? This archery competition was a sign that things were going back to normal, and the people were relieved.

The flags above the shaded seats mean for the royal families fluttered in the breeze. Blue and white, with the White Tree for Gondor, and green with a white horse for Rohan. Next to those, much smaller, was the flag of Dol Amroth: pale blue with ship that had a swan at its bow.

Lothíriel turned toward the left, making her way to the nobility entrances. There, it smelled less of horse, and the line was much shorter.

A guard stood at the entrance and merely nodded at each nobleman or woman who passed. Lothíriel quickly entered and found her family's section, directly to the right of the King's section. To her delight, Arwen and Éowyn were already there. Their handmaidens were not far away, but as they did not need to immediately attend to their mistresses, had gathered as a small gaggle in a corner closest to the front of the section, whispering behind their open palms.

As soon as she entered, they stood quickly and curtsied briefly before going back to their conversation, giggling as if something very funny had just happened.

She decided to ignore them. "This must be quite the competition for the Queen of Gondor to be here!" she said with a smile before embracing her friends.

Éowyn beamed back at her. "Well, had you not been such a hermit in the last week, you would have known how big of an event this is. As soon as it was decided, there have been postings all around the city. Half of Minas Tirith must be coming!"

The princess raised an eyebrow. "And what was it decided?" She knew she had shut herself away for the last few days, but it was unlike her to not hear something even from the servants.

As she moved to sit with them, Arwen stated, "Well, the soldiers probably wanted to compete as soon as the Rohirrim arrived, but it was probably officially approved by Aragorn five days ago."

Lothíriel blew out her breath as Éowyn smirked at her. "Exactly the time you decided you no longer wanted to be a princess, but instead w anted the life a healer. Oh, and had all those run-ins with my brother." Her smile broadened at the scowl on Lothíriel's face, and the princess suddenly realized how much the two siblings looked alike.

"Ah yes, I believe King Éomer is going to be part of the competition," Arwen said. Her tone was bland, and she smiled serenely, her raven hair offset by her red dress. "Will you give him your favor?"

The princess made a face before waving her hands briefly to indicate that they should lower their voice. The handmaidens in the corner seemed to all of a sudden have taken an interest in their conversation.

The last thing she needed was the rumor that the King of Rohan was courting her. "Oh, stop teasing, you two," she said with a frown. "I intend to just enjoy the competition just like anyone else. Why are women always bothering with favors?" She turned her gaze to the grounds beneath them , where the men were beginning to gather. Tourneys, of all things, was somewhat equalizing, provided that you knew how to do whatever it was that the men were competing for.

While jousting was mostly a noble sport because only those with titles of knight or better could afford all the equipment, archery was a different story. Any neighborhood hunter could join the competition provided that hey passed the initial tests. Amrothos had at one time described all the different targets and skills one had to demonstrate in order to join, but Lothíriel had long since forgotten them.

It was why, now, on the grounds were both commoners and nobility, each lined up and testing their bows. Many were dark-headed, of Gondor, but there was a small contingency of Rohirrim, huddled together and speaking in their own tongue. Lothíriel could see no sign of Éomer or Éothain.

Almost as if on cue, Éowyn stood and leaned against the wooden beam before them and gazed over the railing. "Looking for Éomer?" she asked. She laughed again at the other woman's expression, knowing that she had caught her.

Arwen, too, came to join Éowyn near the railing. The entire section was still empty other than their handmaidens, and Lothíriel wondered if it was because her brothers were either too busy to attend or competing themselves.

"Come, Lothíriel, I feel as though I have been left out," the queen said. Her voice was low, however, so as not to let the other women in their section hear. Lothíriel appreciated her tact. "What has transpired between you and the King of Rohan in the last two days? Éowyn seems to think that something has happened, but will not tell me what."

Lothíriel opened her mouth to retort, but Arwen held up a finger. "Do not lie!" she warned. "Come, are we friends or no?"

The princess sighed and shut her mouth again. The queen had done her a great favor by writing her a letter of recommendation to the Houses of. Healing, and it was not one she could readily forget.

She looked at the ground for a moment before looking back out at the competition. "We are friends," she said. She looked back at Arwen. "Éomer asked me to return to Rohan with him when he leaves."

Éowyn gasped audibly, and Arwen merely looked at her.

Lothíriel immediately hushed them once more, as the handmaidens seemed to be looking over once more.

It was a few moments before the queen asked. "And what did you say?"

The princess gave her a grin. "I said of course, I would be happy to be Queen of Rohan."

She could not help but laugh at the shocked looks on her friends' faces.

"I said no such thing," she relented finally, giving both of them a droll look. "I told him I would ask my father."

Éowyn, however, touched her arm. "But he asked you to go to Edoras?"

The other woman nodded. Éowyn gave her a small smile, this time genuine. "Do you want to go?"

It was the question that she had been asking herself all morning. "I… I do not know," she answered truthfully. "I will have to leave Gondor and my family, but it is also such an opportunity to learn medicine in Edoras—"

The Rohir made a tsking sound, interrupting her.

"You know my brother is not asking you to go to Rohan just to learn medicine," she said, her tone exasperated. "Come now, Lothi, tell me you at least know that much."

Lothíriel felt her cheeks grow hot. Of course it was not. It was stupid to keep pretending that that was the reason why. She turned away from the wooden rail to face her friends. "I know," she said finally.

Éowyn gesticulated frantically with her friends, urging her to continue. "And…?"

Arwen was smiling once again.

"He likes me," the princess finally admitted softly. She realized that she was fidgeting, her hands making small wrinkles in her dress, so she clenched her fists. Her palms were sweaty.

The Rohir sighed again. "Lothi, Éomer likes the color. Green. He likes getting up late in the morning. When he asks a princess to uproot her life and move to his country, I think he more than just likes her, don't you think?"

The elf held out one hand to let the woman know that she was going too far. Her expression, as always, was tranquil. "Lothíriel, how. Do you feel about him?"

The princess was sure her cheeks could not get any redder. Why was it that she could never hold back anything from her friends? The thought of Éomer and their kiss that night brought shivers down her spine. She had not let it get any further, but it was not that she did not want it.

"I…" she opened her mouth but noticed that Éowyn and Arwen had both shifted their gaze to something behind her. The handmaidens, in their corner, had uniformly stood and gasped, shuffling to stand straighter. Hands came out to straight necklaces and necklines. Waistlines were adjusted before they all curtsied low.

Before she could turn, a familiar voice sounded behind her. "My lady Lothíriel, would you be so kind as to give me your favor for this competition?"