I don't know what came over me, but I think it was the lovely reviews I got from the last fic, so I am updating immediately. In this chapter, we go back to the Fourth Age and continue on there. I can't wait to hear what you think!

Chapter Seven (Fourth Age 8)

After their stroll through the gardens, Mareke was shaken. She had known she would see Eomer, but she had wished their first meeting to take place in a crowd of people when she was expecting to see him. Instead, it had been a surprise and one she was entirely unprepared for.

Seeing his son had felt like a knife thrust deep into her chest. He was the spitting image of his father. The longing she had felt to take the little boy into her own arms had been staggering.

"Mother, are you alright?" Adnan asked, once the door was firmly shut behind them and they were back in the sitting room of the rooms they were sharing.

"Of course," she replied.

"You barely spoke to Eomer," Adnan continued. "I thought you had been friendly when he was in Harad all those years ago."

"We were," Mareke said, wishing very much that her son would leave the subject alone. "It is strange to see all of them after so long, is all."

Adnan continued to stare down at his mother, trying to puzzle out what was going on. "Alright. I hope you will be more sociable this evening."

Mareke sighed. "Of course."

His brow was still furrowed, but he pressed a kiss to his mother's forehead. "Prepare yourself."

Mareke did as he bid and disappeared into her bedroom.

Oyna was there, laying the gown Mareke would wear out on the bed. It was a beautiful, pale lilac silk that she knew would flow over her body. It had been made just for the occasion of the celebration in King Elessar's honor.

"I saw him," she said quietly.

"Eomer-King?" Oyna asked, eyes wide. "Already?"

"It was a surprise in the gardens," Mareke murmured, sitting heavily at the vanity and putting her head in her hands.

Oyna watched her mistress and her friend and her heart ached for the woman.

"I am not sure what I was expecting, but it was worse; much more difficult than I anticipated."

"Oh Mareke," Oyna said gently. She went to the princess and ran her fingers through her wild curls, beginning to prepare the woman for the feast and celebration.

Mareke looked at her lady-in-waiting in the mirror. "I could curse that son of mine for insisting I be here," she muttered.

"The King needs you," Oyna reminded her gently. "I do not think he would have asked if he had known."

"He believes I hesitated because of my capture, but that is not it at all."

Oyna nodded, understanding in her eyes, as she wrestled with Mareke's pitch black hair, trying to mold it into something the Gondorans would find acceptable.

"We saw his son. A toddler who looks exactly like his father." She hastily wiped a tear from her cheek at the impossibility of the emotions she was still feeling nearly a decade later.

"We will get through this," Oyna assured her mistress. "There are many others who you will enjoy seeing."

Mareke nodded grudgingly. "It shall be a long visit."

ooooOoooo

"I am sorry. My mother is Haradrim. You must have the wrong rooms," Adnan said when Mareke emerged from her bedroom.

"Oh hush," Mareke shook her head.

Oyna had managed to gather Mareke's curls into a bun at the base of her neck. She had adorned her friend with a golden coronet and emerald earrings that dangled, brushing her neck.

The gown had been an attempt to keep the Haradrim style without being too revealing. Of course, she no longer wore the revealing garments that the younger Haradrim women wore, but still there was more flesh exposed than the Gondoran women would ever dream of showing.

The silk was light and airy and would keep her cool in the warm Great Hall, but it was also modest.

Adnan stood and surveyed his mother as she straightened his tunic. It was a gorgeous royal blue with gold embroidery at the neckline, hem, and sleeves.

"Your crown is crooked," she said, trying, with some difficulty, to get the gold circlet to lay flat on his curls. Despite its solid weight, Adnan's wild hair seemed to be the predominant force.

"Every inch the King," she said, as she always did to him. "How are you feeling?"

"Nervous. Inexperienced," he replied.

"The nerves I cannot help with, but you are not inexperienced. You have sat upon your throne for nearly three years now. You have ridden out at the head of your men, negotiated with our tribes, and have ruled Harad with no incident."

"It still feels like it is Jidd's throne and I am merely playacting," Adnan admitted quietly.

"Nonsense! Your jidd would be very unhappy to hear you say such a thing. He trained you well and you have taken over with your own strengths and nuances. Harad is yours. You cannot go out to face these other rulers thinking anything different."

Adnan met his mother's eyes with his and it was as though they stared into a mirror. "Our people adore you. I love you more than life itself. You are competent and capable to handle not only these social situations, but the negotiations that will follow."

Mareke reached up and took her son's face in her hands and rubbed her thumbs over his cheekbones. "Settle into your rule. You have so much to offer and these people will understand that immediately."

Adnan nodded and closed his eyes briefly.

Mareke dropped her hands as he took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back so he was standing to his full, impressive height. He offered his arm to his mother and they left their rooms.

She had encouraged him through his nerves, but her own fears were not as straightforward and it was not something she could share with her son.

The corridors leading to the great hall were bustling with guests, but as the Haradrim mother and son made their way towards the celebrations, the people parted and stared.

Mareke had expected such a thing, but she worried that it was rattling Adnan even more.

She squeezed his arm and gave him a brief smile before the doors were swung wide open for them. They were immediately engulfed in the sound and the swirling of different colors of gowns and tunics.

"Oh my," Adnan muttered.

"Relax," Mareke bid him gently.

They made their way deeper into the hall, but before they could get much further, Eowyn approached them.

"My goodness, Your Majesty, I cannot get over how handsome you have grown to be," she said, smiling up at Adnan.

"Please, my lady, call me Adnan," the King said, giving one of his charming smiles.

"How have you managed to remain unwed up to now?" Eowyn asked.

"Because I have not pressed the issue," Mareke said with a roll of her eyes.

"It is true. My mother has long run my court, and my grandfather's before me, successfully," Adnan replied with a shrug. "I am happy to let her continue to do so."

Mareke shook her head. "Well I would enjoy a respite, not that anyone asked," she laughed. She felt more at ease around Eowyn. They had grown quite close during her visit to Harad all of those years ago and had kept up a correspondence since, pointedly avoiding some topics, of course.

"I think you might get that sooner than you think," Eowyn said, looking around the room. "Your son can have his pick of eligible brides it would seem."

It was true. When they looked through the crowd, maidens of all ages and from all Realms were staring at the tall, dark King.

"They stare because I am exotic," Adnan said with a chuckle.

"And wealthy and powerful. Do not sell yourself short," Eowyn returned with a rogue grin.

"You are terrible," Mareke laughed.

"I know."

"Where is Elboron?" Mareke asked, looking around for the rest of Eowyn's family.

"Oh, terrorizing his nurse with Eldarian if I had to guess. The servants and governesses and really everyone else dread when the two of them get together. They cause such a commotion."

"Little boys will do that," Mareke agreed.

"Adnan, go and mingle. There are many eager to meet you it would seem," Eowyn said, turning back to the young man.

"If you insist." He dipped his head to his mother and the Lady of Ithilien. "Ladies," he said, before disappearing into the crowd.

"They age me, these children of ours," Eowyn said, watching him go.

"Wait until Elboron is twenty," Mareke laughed.

"Hopefully, he will at least be a bit more calm by then," Eowyn replied. "Would you like a goblet of wine?"

Mareke nodded and the pair set off to find where the libations were being served.

"Princess Mareke," Faramir joined the pair of them, a little girl clinging to his hand.

"Speaking of aging us all," Mareke said with a smile. "I remember when you wrote that Finduilas was born."

The little girl took her mother's hand in her other one and buried her face in Eowyn's skirts.

"Our children are complete opposites," Faramir said with a laugh. They all caught a glimpse of Elboron chasing Eldarian around the edge of the room, guards hustling after them.

Mareke looked once more at the fair little girl between her parents.

"And where is King Adnan?" Faramir asked, taking a goblet of wine for himself.

"Hopefully finding a wife," Eowyn laughed.

"It would not be the worst thing he could find while we are here," Mareke agreed.

"It looks like he might be successful," Faramir said. They all swivelled to see Adnan surrounded by a handful of young women.

Mareke smiled, though it brought a pang to her heart to think of some other woman coming into her son's life. In the very near future, Adnan would be a husband and perhaps a father. His life would be so full and she feared what her life might become then.

Everyone began moving toward their tables so the feast could begin.

"I will be right there," Mareke said.

Eowyn gave her a quick look and Mareke gave her a smile, assuring her she was fine. Mareke lingered to get another goblet of wine and to watch her son.

Not so long ago he had been a little boy who sometimes caused all manner of mischief and sometimes needed to be clinging to his mother.

She was not naive. She knew her son was not an innocent, and knew that he often spent his nights with a woman in his room in Harad.

A wife would be a different matter. A wife would mean that Harad would have a Queen for the first time since Mareke's mother was alive. Mareke would no longer have as much influence in the court or in political matters.

She took a long drink of her wine, still watching her son.

After another moment, Adnan caught his mother's eye and arched an eyebrow. He turned back to the last remaining young woman and when she had walked away, he gestured for his mother to join him.

Mareke did and looped her arm through his once more.

"How are you doing?" he asked quietly.

"Fine," she assured him. The memories of her capture in Minas Tirith were not as traumatic as her son thought they were, but she did not want him to know the various conflicts that were truly affecting her.

They were to be seated at a table with Eowyn, Faramir, and Prince Imrahil's family from Dol Amroth. Adnan pulled his mother's chair out and sat next to her.

Mareke immediately noticed that the young woman who had captured Adnan's attention was sitting across from them.

"Princess Mareke," Prince Amrothos said, seated to her left. "It is wonderful to see you again."

Mareke gave him a genuine smile. "The pleasure is mine, I assure you."

"Mother," Adnan said, pulling her attention back to him. "I do not believe you have had the pleasure of meeting Princess Haleth," he said, indicating the young woman.

"I have not," Mareke said, trying to keep the smile on her face, nodding at the young woman. She had the fine features of her family and their dark hair and fair skin.

Throughout dinner, she learned that Haleth was the oldest child of Prince Elphir. Erchirion had married as well, but Amrothos was unwed.

Imrahil was in his seventies and had lost some of the vitality he had possessed in Harad a decade earlier, but he was as polite and charming as ever.

While Mareke was regaled with updates from Imrahil's family, she noticed that Adnan and Haleth could not keep their eyes off of one another and were not participating fully in the conversation around them.

Eowyn raised an eyebrow in her direction. Mareke gave a shake of her head and a chuckle.

Once the plates and platters had been removed from the tables the music started up and Aragorn and Arwen took to the floor first. They were such an elegant pair and were still obviously very much in love a decade after their wedding.

Faramir extended his hand to Eowyn and they joined the King and Queen on the dancefloor, laughing to one another as they spun around.

Mareke's heart caught in her throat when the next pair stepped onto the floor. Eomer and who could only be Lothiriel situated themselves and then executed the steps perfectly. As they moved around the floor and weaved through the other couples joining the dance, Mareke caught a glimpse of Lothiriel's very swollen stomach. If it was possible, it was more of a blow than seeing Eomer with his son earlier that day.

The color drained from her face and her hand instinctively went to her own flat stomach. Her womb had been empty since she delivered Adnan. It was not what she had imagined for her life, but so many things had not happened how she might have wanted them to.

Mareke could not tear her gaze away from Eomer and his Queen. They were a very handsome pair. Lothiriel was nearly as tall as her brothers and lean, besides the child she carried. She looked much like her niece, beautiful and fair, with long, dark hair and grey eyes. Her golden crown sat across her forehead as though she had been born to be a Queen and torchlight glinted off the large ruby wedding ring she wore.

Mareke could only mirror the woman and she rubbed her thumb against her ring finger. She wore no jewel and there was only a tattoo there from her marriage. She would have that all of her life.

Lothiriel smiled up at her husband, listening intently as he spoke to her. Mareke could only imagine what they might be speaking of; their children, their Realm, their friends and family. After nearly a decade of marriage they would have created a very full life with many interesting things to talk about and plan for.

As they completed a turn in the dance, Eomer caught Mareke's eye over his wife's shoulder and the Princess quickly looked away, filling her wine goblet once more with shaky hands.

"Princess Haleth," Adnan said, standing and offering his hand. "Might I interest you in a dance?"

Mareke was sure she could not take another blow. At every other formal function, Adnan had always asked her to dance with him first to open the festivities.

The young woman blushed and stood gracefully, placing her hand in Adnan's. Mareke tried to smile, but she was afraid her face might shatter.

Despair was rising in her chest, causing her ears to ring and her eyes to lose focus on all that was around her.

"Princess Mareke, would you like to dance?" Amrothos asked her. "I remember another welcome feast we danced at."

"I would be honored, but I am not feeling so well," she managed to get out. She tried to avert her eyes from the dancefloor, not wanting to see Adnan or Eomer. "I think I shall retire for the evening."

"Would you like me to accompany you to your rooms? I would hate if something were to happen to you, Your Highness," Amrothos said.

Mareke shook her head. "No, thank you. I shall be just fine. I am a bit worn out from our travels is all."

Amrothos gave her another concerned look. "If you are sure…"

"I appreciate your concern. I shall see you tomorrow. Give my farewell and regrets to the others."

Amrothos nodded as Mareke rose and left the hall.

She had nearly made it to the bend in the corridor, where she could disappear, when she heard someone calling after her.

"Mareke!"

She turned to see Eowyn, hustling down the hall. When the Lady of Ithilien caught up to her, she took Mareke's upper arms in her hands and looked at her closely.

"I thought this would be difficult for you," she said quietly.

Mareke shook her head. "I am tired. That is all."

She had never been certain how much Eowyn knew about their stay in Harad. She had never told her any of the intimate details of her relationship with Eomer, but she knew the siblings were extremely close and had been especially so during and immediately following the War.

"He told me," Eowyn said. "Almost everything I would imagine."

Mareke felt her eyes welling and so she looked away.

"I did not want to come here," Mareke whispered. "Adnan thinks my reluctance was because of my time as a captive, but that is not it. Obviously."

"Life can be so very, very cruel," Eowyn said quietly. "My heart broke for you both back then and it does again now."

"Mine has been broken ever since," she replied.

"Can I do anything to help?" Eowyn asked sincerely.

Mareke shook her head. "I am going to retire. If anyone asks, tell them I was not feeling well after our long travels."

Eowyn nodded and squeezed both of Mareke's hands before letting them go and turning to go back into the great hall.

Mareke wiped at her eyes and continued on her way back to her chambers.

When she was safely in her rooms, Oyna appeared in the sitting room, ready to prepare Mareke for bed.

"How was-" she was cut off by the look of despair on her mistress' face. She quickly sent every other servant away.

Mareke collapsed into the older woman's arms, sobbing into her neck.

Oyna stroked her back gently, murmuring to her in their own tongue. After a few moments, she gently pulled Mareke off of her and began to unbutton the long row of buttons on the back of the lilac dress. When Mareke was in only her slip, Oyna gently guided her to sit before the vanity, immediately removing her coronet and earrings and gently unpinning her curls.

The two women did not say a word. After a lifetime together, they often did not have to speak what was on their minds.

Oyna helped Mareke into her bed and fetched a cool rag to place over her eyes. She stood above her mistress for a few moments and stroked her hair away from her face.

ooooOoooo

Several hours later, Mareke was still lying in bed awake when she heard the door open. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing.

Heavy footsteps approached the side of the bed and she knew it was her son. She could smell the wine and sweat from all of his dancing exertions.

Adnan looked down at his mother, brow furrowed, but glad to see that she was getting some much needed rest. Without a word, he bent over and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

ooooOoooo

Eventually, Mareke could not lie in bed any longer and so she slipped into the gown she had worn to the gardens earlier and tiptoed out of her room. One of the guards who had been posted outside of her and Adnan's chambers followed at a distance as she made her way back to the gardens.

In Harad, the palace was much more open and fresh air blew through the rooms and corridors. In Minas Tirith, everything seemed much more closed off and claustrophobic.

It was still a few hours before dawn and so Mareke hoped that she might have a few moments to breathe in the night air and scent of the plants and flowers to calm herself before returning to bed.

When she had been in Minas Tirith the first time, she had seen nothing but Eomer's rooms, so it was interesting to walk through the palace. She took a longer route, having forgotten the way to the gardens, but that was fine with her. She saw more paintings and works of art as she meandered through the corridors in the dim torchlight.

When she finally emerged into the gardens, she took a slow, deep breath, shutting her eyes briefly.

"Mareke?"

She quickly turned back to the entrance and saw Eomer standing there, his own guards a few paces behind him.

Even in her most flustered state, Mareke could execute a perfect curtsy. "Your Majesty."

"Please do not do that," he said quietly.

They stood and looked the other over.

"You left the celebration rather early," he said.

"It was a bit much after our long travels," she replied.

Neither of them believed the lie.

"Mareke-"

She shook her head. "We should not be here. This is more inappropriate than the first time, if that is possible."

"I have thought about you every single day since I left Harad," Eomer said, his voice catching.

"Do not say such things." Mareke felt her eyes welling once more.

"You never responded to my letters."

"I was doing what was best for you."

As Eomer nodded, a tear slipped down his bearded cheek.

Mareke barely remained on her feet when he turned and left.

There you have it! Please review! I love to hear your thoughts and ideas! No idea is too big or small for me to consider for this story! There are a lot of characters to manage and I'm trying to do it as best I can so I'd love to know what you think is working there or not, and of course what you want to see from these particular characters.

Happy reading,

Avonmora