Hi everyone! I'm not sure this update turned out how I really wanted it to, but I'm not sure how else it could have looked. I'll be interested to hear what you think. Enjoy!

Chapter Six (Third Age 3020)

Mareke had not been able to sleep or eat for nearly a week and it was all coming to a head that afternoon. Early that morning, scouts had returned to the palace saying that the guests from Minas Tirith, Edoras, Dol Amroth, and Ithilien would be arriving that day.

Mareke stood in front of the mirror in her room looking herself over. She looked nothing like the healer who had been in Minas Tirith a year before.

She was arranging her wild curls for the thousandth time when there was a knock on her bedroom door.

"Your Highness." The servant bowed. "The royal guests have entered the city. His Majesty requests your and the Crown Prince's presence in the entrance hall."

Mareke nodded. "Thank you."

She cast one last look at herself in the mirror and then left. Adnan was sitting at the dining room table pouring over a document on strategy that he was supposed to critique for an upcoming lesson.

"Come Adnan," she said gently. "They will be here shortly."

"You look nice," he said as he held the door open for her.

"Quite the gentleman," Mareke said with a gentle smile, squeezing his shoulder as she passed.

Mareke had had a year to prepare herself and yet she was not ready to see Eomer again. She had thought that their parting would be permanent, but now they were to meet under completely different circumstances.

"Are you alright?" Hashad asked when his daughter and grandson joined him.

"Nervous," she replied.

He merely nodded.

They waited there for another quarter of an hour before the heavy doors were pushed open. Sunlight came streaming in along with a hot blast of air and it took Mareke's eyes a moment to adjust.

The sun was behind the newcomers as they made their way in. It was only when the doors were closed once more that everyone was able to take in their new surroundings.

"Welcome!" King Hashad said, stepping forward. "Welcome to Harad!"

"We are glad to finally be here," King Elessar replied.

"I am sure you are exhausted. Before you are seen to your rooms may I present my daughter, Princess Mareke and my grandson, the Crown Prince, Adnan."

Eomer's mouth actually opened when he looked upon the princess.

She gave a practiced curtsy as she had done to King Elessar in Minas Tirith. "Your Majesties," she said quietly. "Welcome to Harad."

When she straightened back up, Eowyn, Aragorn, and Eomer were all gaping at her in shock.

"Bema's balls," Eowyn muttered.

Eomer was too shocked to rebuke his sister for the foul language. He couldn't take his eyes off her. It was unmistakably Herenya, the healer, but she was dressed much more regally with kohl rimming her dark eyes.

The royal blue outfit she wore was unlike anything he had ever seen. The skirt was long and flowing with a slit all the way up her thigh on one side and the top left her entire midriff bare, wrapping around to cover her breasts, but also leaving her arms exposed. She wore golden bangles on both wrists and many of her tattoos were on display.

"Adnan and I shall show King Elessar and Prince Imrahil's family to their rooms and Mareke will take the Lord and Lady of Ithilien and Eomer-King."

Mareke glanced quickly at her father, but nodded.

"Please follow me," Mareke said quietly. "We are very grateful that you have taken a vote of confidence in Harad and chosen to visit; to talk of peace," she continued on, even though her heart was hammering.

She had not forgotten how handsome Eomer was, but she had forgotten how his sheer size could move the air around her.

Faramir looked between his wife and brother-in-law, wondering why no one was going to speak. "We are quite glad to be here, Your Highness," he replied, looking between the pair beside him as they followed the princess. He could not fathom what had possessed them to act in such a way. "Your home is unlike anything I have ever seen."

Finally, as they approached the rooms that Eowyn and Faramir were to share, Mareke turned and looked at them for the first time since they had left the entrance hall. "The Lord and Lady of Ithilien shall stay here." She pushed the door open so that they could peek into the colorful sitting room, which was covered in sumptuous pillows and lush fabrics. "You are all to rest for the remainder of the day, dinner shall be sent to you, and then tomorrow I have planned for you to enjoy what Harad has to offer before the talks begin the following day. If you need anything at all, please send someone to me directly. I wish to ensure that you have the best possible stay in Harad.

Eowyn elbowed her brother in the ribs before she disappeared into her rooms. "Are you not going to say something?" she hissed.

Eomer looked as though he might never speak again. His face had gone white and he was still a bit slack-jawed.

"I lied to protect myself," Mareke said, before anyone else could say anything. "I thought if I was no one, if everyone thought I was no one, the stakes might be lower and I would be able to make it out of Gondor and back home. And it worked. I hope you can understand that. I did not mean to hurt anyone."

Before Eowyn could speak, Faramir placed his hand on her lower back and guided her into their rooms, finally understanding just who Princess Mareke really was.

"Your rooms are just across the hall, Eomer-King," Mareke said, leading him to another door. "I hope they will be to your liking."

Once more, she pushed the door open.

Eomer looked down at her briefly, gave a quick shake of his head, and disappeared, closing the door behind him.

Mareke sighed when the door was safely closed behind him. She could not read him.

In the time they had spent together in Minas Tirith, he had been so open to her, but it seemed it would take some convincing for him to understand what she had done and why.

When she returned to her rooms, she excused everyone but her lady-in-waiting that was closest to her.

"Are you alright? You have not seemed yourself recently," Oyna said. She no longer referred to her mistress by her royal title. Though of course there was no mistaking the nature of their relationship, they had been together since they were girls, Oyna a few years older than Mareke, and had been through everything together; marriages, a few children between the two of them, and loss.

"There is something I did not tell you about my time in Minas Tirith that now makes this royal visit fairly difficult," Mareke said.

With another deep sigh, Mareke then went into all of the details of her time with Eomer. When she was through, Oyna was gaping at her.

"I do not know what to say," she said, finally recovering.

"It was foolish, I know," Mareke replied, sitting heavily on a low sofa.

"I do not know about that," Oyna said with a shrug. "No one need know. Clearly there were no consequences," she said, referring to the fact that there had obviously been no child. "Are you planning to take him back to bed while he is here? I can send for the herbs to ensure that there will be no repercussions."

"Oyna!" Mareke exclaimed with a laugh despite everything. "After all I have told you, that is what you ask me."

The other woman shrugged. "It seemed like you might have enjoyed yourself. That is not a bad thing considering what it was like before," she said, referencing Mareke's late husband.

"Yes well, be that as it may, I am not sure I will be able to get Eomer to speak to me let alone anything more intimate than that."

She knew the revelation of her identity would change everything between them. No longer was she a woman of no consequence who could be taken to bed without a care. She was royalty in her own right, the daughter of a King and mother to the heir. In the dawning of a new age, she might be a person of some importance.

ooooOoooo

It did not take long before she had her chance to speak with Eomer alone.

Mareke had spent her dinner with her father and son going over the plans for the next day. She had arranged various activities for all of their guests; there were to be mumak rides, tours of the city and market, and relaxing time spent in their steam rooms, mineral baths, and with the very capable masseuses of the palace.

Not long after Hashad had departed and Adnan had been sent to bed, there was a knock at her door.

Oyna answered it as Mareke was preparing for bed.

"It is him!" the woman said frantically as she popped her head into Mareke's lavatory where she had been wiping off the makeup from the day.

"Of course it is," Mareke said, looking at herself in the mirror. "See him to the sitting room and offer refreshment. Dismiss everyone else. I shall be there in a moment and you shall give us as much privacy as possible without leaving my rooms completely."

Oyna nodded and then hurried out of the room once more.

Mareke put her head in her hands briefly. She did not have time to fix herself back up, so she merely pulled on a long, flowing green dress. It was not as revealing as her earlier outfit, but some of the tattoos on her arms and hands could still be seen as the sleeves had clasps to her wrists, but there were patches where her skin could be seen.

If she had thought she was nervous when the entire group arrived, it was nothing compared to what facing Eomer alone was doing to her heart. Mareke was afraid she would lose her breath as she left her bedroom, passing Oyna as she went.

"Eomer-King," she said quietly, approaching him from behind the sofa he sat on.

He immediately rose and dipped his head. "Your Highness," he replied, once more looking her up and down. Even without the makeup and jewelry, she looked much different than she had in Minas Tirith. He thought it might be her surroundings, but he realized it was her regal bearing. It had slipped through once or twice in Gondor, but in her own home she wore her heritage and blood status like a crown.

"Please," she said. "My name is Mareke." She gestured for the massive man to sit back down.

Eomer had to extend his legs in front of him to fit on the low sofa. Mareke folded hers beneath her, giving him a glimpse of the woman he had thought she was in Minas Tirith.

"Is it?" he asked, his words barbed.

Mareke met his brown eyes. "Yes."

His brows were furrowed and he crossed his thick arms over his chest. He too had changed into something more comfortable and wore only a linen tunic with his plain breeches and boots.

Mareke was sure that their guests would soon find the heat to be quite unforgiving.

"The more I think about everything, the more I do not understand why you felt you could not trust me," Eomer said evenly.

Mareke sighed. She had been doing quite a lot of sighing that day.

"I have no real reason. My intuition told me that I would be safer if I lied." She shrugged. "I was not wrong. I made it home."

"Do you think me some brute that would have kept you a prisoner if I had known you were a princess?"

"No!" Mareke shook her head. "I do not think that at all. I think I might have been delayed in getting back to Harad. There would have been more questions, more conversations needed about the right way of doing things. But if I did not matter to anyone, then I could be released. I had to get back here, Eomer-King."

"I told you everything," he said, looking away from her. "I told you things that I have never told another soul. I spoke of fear and doubt and shame." He rubbed a hand over his jaw and then pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closing, emotion rising.

Mareke heard the restraint failing in his voice.

"I told you everything and you could not even share your name!" His brown eyes flashed to hers and she could see the rage, like a fire, behind them. "I am humiliated!"

Mareke's eyes closed briefly in the face of his anger.

"It was not out of disrespect for you," she said, after he had taken a few shaky breaths. "I can assure you of that. I am still honored by what you shared with me."

"I do not trust anything you have to say, Princess," he replied sharply.

"You must believe that though I was dishonest about my name and my heritage, nothing else was a lie," Mareke said sincerely.

"How do I know that?" Eomer demanded. "How do I know that you have not been sharing all of my insecurities with your father? Is ready to pounce on the fact that I still have no idea what I am doing as King?"

"You will know when you meet with him. He will be nothing but gracious for what you did for me," she assured him. "I shared nothing with him except the bare facts of the matter; that you saved my life and were instrumental in my return to Harad."

Eomer finally looked back at Mareke.

"He will be grateful to you for my return to him," she repeated.

"As your nephew is?"

Mareke paused in her confusion and then realization dawned on her. "Adnan is not my nephew." She looked directly at Eomer. "He is my son."

Once more, Eomer's face drained of color and he was shocked into rage. "You say you did not lie to me, but you certainly were not open! This is lying by omission! You could have told me you had a son without giving yourself away! And where is his father? Am I going to have to contend with an angry husband while I am here?"

Mareke shook her head. "That would be impossible. Adnan's father is dead. He took ill long before the War and he did not recover."

"I am sorry," Eomer said quietly, abashed in the face of her loss.

"It is alright. There was not much love lost there," she replied. "I did not tell you about Adnan because I thought I might protect him by staying silent. And I know it would have broken me to speak of him when I was, at first, very uncertain if I would ever see him again. You will understand someday what it is like to have a child and to watch your heart walk around outside of your body. You would do anything to protect them even if it does not make absolute sense in hindsight."

Eomer was silent for a long while.

"Please, Eomer," Mareke said, when it was evident he would not speak. "I only meant to survive and to see my son again. The conversations we shared were not deceitful on my end. They were quite real and genuine." She reached across the low table between their two sofas and took his hand. "I have thought of you often since we parted."

Eomer looked at their hands, his much larger and lighter than hers, for a long moment before pulling himself free and standing up. "As have I, Princess."

He did not say another word as he left her rooms.

ooooOoooo

Eomer did not sleep at all that night and so when it was finally time for him to go and receive his massage and dip in the mineral baths, he was a little grumpy and wary. They did not have such things in Rohan.

"Your Majesty," a woman greeted him with a curtsy. He had been led very deep into the palace and it was much cooler in the buried rooms.

Incense burned. He could detect hints of lavender that immediately made him want to go to sleep.

"Right this way," the woman said in her heavily accented Common Tongue. She led him into a private, dark room, only illuminated by a few candles. "I shall give you a moment to disrobe and wrap yourself in the sheet. We shall start face down," she said, indicating the high, narrow bed in the center of the room.

Eomer stood there after she had closed the door behind her and stared at the bed. He was unsure if he would fit or not.

Reluctantly, he began to unbutton his tunic and then he kicked his boots off and pushed his breeches down, reaching for the linen sheet folded neatly on the bed. He wrapped it securely around his waist and then clambered as carefully as he could onto the table.

A moment later the woman returned. She stood next to the table and rested her hands on Eomer's broad back for a moment before she began to move them back and forth to get him used to her touch.

The pressure gradually became more firm and Eomer found himself groaning as she forcefully ran the heel of her hand around his shoulder blades.

He hissed in pain when she used her elbow to work through a particularly bad knot.

"Is that too much, Your Majesty?" she asked, pausing. "You are very tense."

"Keep going," he ordered.

All said, it was more discomfort than relaxation, but when he stood from the table after an hour and a half, he felt like a new man. He rotated his shoulders and for once they did not creak and crack. The massage had erased some of the years he had spent slaving to the sword, shield, and spear.

"I will show you to the mineral baths so that you might soak for a while. It helps the work on your muscles to settle in," the woman said.

Eomer followed her through a couple of corridors before they emerged into a very large room with high, mosaic ceilings.

The woman hung back by the entrance to the corridor. "This bath is for the men. You can wear the sheet into the water," she said. "Enjoy."

Before she left, she peeked around the huge king and bobbed her head to the only other occupant of the bath. "Your Highness," she said, before disappearing.

Eomer turned and saw the boy from the day before, which brought the conversation with Mareke flooding back to him.

"Prince Adnan," he said, when had finally gathered himself. Eomer used the stairs and stepped down into the warm water.

The boy watched him closely from where he sat at the far edge of the pool on an underwater bench that went around the entire thing.

"Your Majesty," the boy said quietly.

Eomer took a seat and they continued to study one another. He had never been very good with ages, but Adnan was alone in the pool, besides the chamberlain who seemed to be the boy's companion. He had straightened up when Eomer appeared and the King could see that the boy was nearly identical to his mother from the wild curls on his head to the cut of his jaw and cheekbones. He even bore himself as Mareke did, cloaking himself in his role of the Crown Prince.

"Have you enjoyed your day, Your Majesty?" the boy asked.

"It has been quite interesting. The mumak ride was a bit frightening," he admitted.

Used to horses, Eomer had not enjoyed being so far up on something that swayed so much. He had been quite glad to get back on the ground and continue the rest of their tour on foot.

"I have heard rumors that you killed a mumak by yourself in Gondor," Adnan said, more fascinated than disturbed by the act. "Is that true?"

"Per usual, the rumors exaggerate," Eomer said, shaking his head. "It was a chain of events and I was not alone. I took no pleasure in the act."

Adnan seemed to be hoping that the man would say more about the War, but Eomer would not. He did not want to fuel the boy's fascination with war and death. He did not want to portray it with any bravado.

"The War was a terrible thing. Many lives were lost, homes destroyed. When you are King, you will make better choices than many of us have had to face, I am sure."

Adnan nodded solemnly. "We almost lost my mother, but she said you saved her. For that, I must thank you, Eomer-King."

Eomer waved the gratitude away. "Please, call me Eomer. I think we shall be friends while I am here and long after." He sank a little lower into the warm water, letting it lap at his chest and shoulders. "As for your mother, she exaggerates. I merely helped her get home to you."

"My grandfather and I are grateful," Adnan continued. "She is all we have now."

"You have lost much," Eomer agreed softly. "How old are you, Prince Adnan?"

"Ten," the boy replied.

"And how long has it been just you and your mother?"

"My father died when I was six. A long time," he said.

To someone so young, Eomer imagined it felt like a lifetime.

"But he was not around very often, even when he was in the palace." Adnan shrugged. "I spent more time with my Uncle Na'man."

Adnan looked away and Eomer was confronted with how very young ten years old really was. The boy had carried on an eloquent conversation; a product of his lessons and training no doubt, but the sudden presence of very strong emotions made him look even younger than he was.

"I lost two people who were very dear to me as well in this War," Eomer said quietly. "It is very difficult to go on without them."

"How do you?" Adnan said, practically whispering and still looking away from the King.

Eomer sighed heavily. "I try to act in a way that I know they would be proud of. I try to live the lessons they taught me and to think of how they would act when I do not know what to do."

A tear slipped down Adnan's cheek, but he nodded.

A male servant came into the room. "Your Majesty," he bowed to Eomer. "Your Highness," he did the same to Adnan. "Your mother would see you in her rooms. It is nearly time to get ready for tonight's feast."

"I will see you tonight, Prince Adnan," Eomer said kindly as the boy left the pool.

Adnan gave a wave and disappeared.

ooooOoooo

Mareke had learned long ago to play the role of Queen to her father's King. When her mother had died, her father had been bereft and left anchorless amongst his court. Though Mareke had not been much older than Adnan, she had tried to follow her mother's example in running the court. Those duties had fallen to the wayside as War approached, but with the arrival of such distinguished guests she was fully back into the role of hostess.

Eomer came through the door last, trailing his sister and Faramir.

"Welcome, Your Majesty," Mareke said, straightening from her curtsy. She gestured to where he would be sitting with the other guests, her, Adnan, and King Hashad.

But Eomer lingered for a moment. "You look quite striking, Princess," he said, taking her in.

Mareke was wearing a dress the color of blood. There was a thick, gold collar around her neck that the fabric was attached to, which then criss-crossed across her chest and stomach, again leaving her midriff bare, before falling from her hips into a frothy skirt.

She was a bit taken aback by the compliment after their conversation the night before. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

With a slight bow of his head, Eomer followed Eowyn and Faramir to the table.

Mareke then began rushing around, while still managing to look elegant and in control, to check that the food was ready to be served and the music to be played after dinner.

She finally joined the high table and the food followed her shortly after.

Adnan was on her right and Eomer was on his other side. Her son had mentioned that he had spent some time with the King that afternoon and so she had paired them up once more.

"I must admit," she heard Eomer whisper to her son. "I have found myself to not be up to the challenge of your spicy food."

Adnan laughed. "I will show you," he promised.

Mareke could not help but smile as the pair laughed through dinner, Eowyn and Faramir joining in while Prince Imrahil and King Elessar had already seemingly begun their talks of politics with King Hashad.

"You need more rice!" Adnan exclaimed.

Mareke chanced a glance around her son to see that the King of Rohan was actually sweating from the spices.

"Try the honey liqueur," she suggested. "But be careful. Though it is sweet, it also has a bite."

Eomer took a drink and sighed, pushing his plate away. "I do not know how you do it, Prince Adnan."

"Try this," Adnan held out a plate of fried bread rolled in cinnamon and sugar.

Eomer closed his eyes as he took a bite. "Now that I can handle," he laughed. "Pass me another."

Mareke rose from the table and went to where some of the noblewomen had gathered at the back of the room. Her father had insisted she lead the entertainment, though she was not looking forward to it.

Before she could dwell too long on the potential for embarrassment, the drums started up and the women took the dance floor.

The guests had never seen anything like that type of dancing before and all eyes were glued to the women as their hips rolled back and forth to the beat of the drums. As their arms moved and their wrists flicked above their heads, their bangles created their own music.

All of the women were wearing similar outfits to Mareke's in different colors and the skirts billowed out as they twirled and kicked their legs.

Adnan glanced over at Eomer to find that his gaze was not moving from his mother. He had seen her dance many times and so he studied the fair king instead.

Eomer had leaned back in his chair and was drinking the princess in. Of course, he had thought her pleasant to look at when they had been in Minas Tirith, but to see her move in such a way, in such a daring gown was completely different.

What he had experienced in Minas Tirith had not been so powerful. It had not been lust exactly, but a release he craved. In Harad, he could not take his eyes from her breasts as he shoulders moved back and forth. Mareke's hips rolled, beckoning to the young King. He wanted to take her there and then on the very dance floor.

But she was no longer just a healer from Harad. She was the widowed mother of the Crown Prince and the daughter of the King. He could not have her so simply as he had before and perhaps he could not have her at all.

What terrible torture that would be.

"Now I see why you took her to bed," Eowyn muttered on Eomer's other side.

He finally glanced over at Adnan, who was staring back at him.

"Hush," he whispered, hoping the boy had not heard.

When the song was over, music of Gondor began playing. King Hashad had had their musicians practicing since they had first learned that there would be a delegation from the North. He wanted their guests to feel at home.

Eomer went to stand and go to Mareke, but he was beaten there by Prince Amrothos, the youngest of Imrahil's sons.

With envy, he watched as the younger man spun Mareke around the floor and had her smiling up into his handsome face as they chatted.

Before the song was even through, Eomer went to the pair, damning all of the eyes that were watching him from the head table and tapped Amrothos on the shoulder. It was rude to do such a thing, but he did not care. He could only think of his hands on her body and he would do whatever it took to feel that sensation once more even it must be during a polite dance in front of others.

"May I cut in?"

Whether Amrothos wanted to allow it or not, he had no choice when someone of Eomer's rank asked him to do something.

"I suppose," he said with a perfunctory bow.

Eomer stepped into his place and held Mareke in his arms, one holding her smaller hand, the other on her bare waist.

"You are not the dance partner I expected to have tonight, Your Majesty," Mareke said.

"Go back to calling me by my given name," he said. "I much prefer it."

"Very well, Eomer," Mareke said.

She could not deny that there was a flare of heat rising in her body at being so near to him once again. There had been many a night after her return to Harad when she had woken in a sweaty tangle of sheets having dreamt of the nights they had shared in Minas Tirith.

"I wanted to apologize for last night," Eomer said. "I cannot imagine the strain you were under, now that I know everything, and how desperate you must have been to get back home to Prince Adnan." Eomer smiled sadly down at her. "He and I spoke in the mineral baths today. He is a very special young man. I can see that you mean a great deal to one another."

"He is my whole world," Mareke said. When the song ended, she separated herself from Eomer and looked up at him. "Does this mean we shall be friends while you are here?"

"I think so."

There you go! Please let me know what you think! I think we're going to move back into the "present." Let me know if there's anything you want to see in either of the time periods for these characters. You always have great ideas and I love to incorporate them when I can. I love all of your feedback so please send it my way!

Happy reading,

Avonmora