Hi there! I had so much fun writing this chapter and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

Chapter Nine (Third Age 3020)

Eomer thought he would lose his mind.

It was three days after his conversation with Mareke about going to bed in Minas Tirith and possibly doing it again in Harad. He had not had a spare minute to himself to speak to her about the matter and even if he had, he had not seen her stop moving through the palace either. She was constantly working on plans for the next meal or entertainment or handling the guests.

The few times he had seen her, she was being tailed by either Prince Amrothos or Prince Eldacar and it made his skin crawl.

No matter how tired he went to bed, he could only think of having his hands and mouth on her body once more. He could barely focus enough to eat or contribute anything to his meetings and conferences with his fellow rulers.

"You look awful, brother," Eowyn said to him as she sat down next to him at dinner on that third night.

"That is kind of you to say," he replied shortly.

Eowyn shrugged and turned to her husband.

Towards the end of the evening, Eomer saw Mareke saying what he assumed were her goodnights.

Taking a chance, he got quickly to his feet, trying not to draw attention to himself, and hurried from the hall.

Mareke had managed to convince Prince Amrothos that she did not need an escort to her room that night. She sighed loudly as she closed the heavy doors behind her. The constant entertaining was beginning to take its toll on her.

She walked slowly toward her chambers, enjoying being alone for the first time in weeks. Oyna would be waiting for her and she was not quite ready for another interaction, even with her closest companion, just yet.

As she walked, she practically dozed off. She had walked the same path so many times the princess could have done it in her sleep.

Eomer heard her soft footsteps and he thanked his gods and hers for the good fortune. As she walked past him, his hand darted out and clasped her upper arm, pulling her into the shadowy corridor where he waited, tight against his body.

Before she could scream, he clamped a huge hand over her mouth. "It is me," he whispered against her neck.

Mareke's body went slack in his arms. When he knew she would not make a sound, Eomer released her.

She did not say a word. Instead, she grabbed his tunic in her fists, pulling him down so that she could kiss him hungrily.

It has not been Eomer's intent to share their passion in the corridor, but he kissed her back nonetheless. His hands buried themselves in her raven curls before they travelled down her body, whispering over her breasts, stomach, and hips.

His lips moved to her neck and collarbone.

"What took you so long?" she murmured.

Eomer smiled against her warm skin. "You are a very difficult woman to track down and get alone," he replied, as he pulled away and straightened, looking down at her.

"Well here I am. You have successfully stalked me." Her hands ran underneath his tunic and before he could answer her, he found himself kissing her deeply once more.

One of his hands found the slit of her skirt and Mareke moaned into his mouth as he cupped her. She could not hear anything over the rush of blood in her ears and her pounding heart as heat gathered low in her stomach.

She broke the kiss, instead pressing herself into his hand and panting against his chest, nearly tearing his tunic off of him as she was clutching it so tight.

Eomer could have had her then and there. She was ready for him, he could feel it.

"Not here," he rasped. "Not like this."

Mareke groaned and thumped her small, dark fist on his chest. Eventually she took a step back, breaking their embrace. "Come to my chambers after midnight," she said, straightening her skirt and hair.

Eomer merely nodded and watched her leave their shadowy corner to head to her rooms. He had to take a moment to slow his breathing and get a hold of himself.

As soon as Mareke entered her rooms, she glanced at the water clock in the corner and could have cursed herself. She would have to wait nearly two hours for him to arrive. It would be an exquisite torture after the encounter they had just shared in the corridor.

"Oyna!" she called.

Her companion came hurrying out of the bedchambers. "Your Highness?"

"Is the Prince in bed?"

Oyna nodded. "The guards reported that he was safely in his rooms half an hour ago."

"Thank you." Mareke ran her hands through her wild hair, looking at the other woman. "I am going to need the herbs."

Oyna's eyes widened and then she gave the princess a devilish smile. "I will fetch them myself and then we will find you something ravishing to wear."

Mareke sank down at the dining table when Oyna was gone. She poured herself a full goblet of wine, drinking deeply in an effort to calm herself.

Time passed extremely slowly. Part of Mareke wished that she and Eomer could have just had their reunion in the corridor, but a larger part of her wanted him for much longer.

Oyna came bursting back into Mareke's chambers and she set two jars on the dining table in front of her mistress.

Mareke was familiar with the wild carrot seed and the disc of clay, mugwort, and honey. She had never used them herself, but as a Healer she had taken it upon herself to provide a way for women to have some control over their life if a child was not something they were interested in for whatever reason. She never made them explain themselves.

"Steep the carrot seed in your tea afterwards," Oyna said.

Mareke nodded. "Every eight hours," she recited, having given the instructions to others several times.

"You see to that," Oyna nodded at the other jar, "and I'll find a nightgown and robe."

Standing, Mareke took the smaller jar in her hand and disappeared into the lavatory. It was unpleasant business to place the disc, but she would not tempt fate a second time. She and Eomer had gotten lucky the first time, though she had waited nervously for her cycle after returning home. She could not have another child, especially not his and especially not while she was entertaining guests on a diplomatic visit. She would have been stoned publicly.

"What do you think?" Oyna asked when Mareke emerged back into her bedroom.

"Is that not a little much?" Mareke replied, eyeing the red silk nightgown and matching robe.

"Do you not want it to be a little much?" Oyna asked. "You are no longer the Healer he saved in Minas Tirith. You are a princess!"

Mareke had to admit that she had a point. It might be exciting to have Eomer come to her while she was in all of her splendor, rather than his tunic that she had worn several days in a row.

"Perhaps you are right," she agreed.

Oyna helped her from her gown and slipped the nightgown over her head. Once the robe was settled around her shoulders, she fluffed Mareke's curls once more.

The princess held out her wrists as Oyna dabbed perfume there, behind her ears, and behind her knees.

Oyna then reached for a kohl pencil and reapplied the lining around Mareke's dark eyes. Next, she put on larger gold hoop earrings and a gold necklace with a moon pendant that dropped right between her breasts.

"Looking like that, this will all be over fairly quickly I would imagine," Oyna said with a mischievous smirk.

"Oh hush," Mareke laughed, though she was still feeling nervous.

"Tis nearly midnight," Oyna said with a straight face. "I shall be in the nursery if you need anything."

Mareke reached out and gripped her hand. "If any rumors spread…"

"I will say I was present the whole time and you all did nothing but sit at the dining room table. I shall send everyone else away until the morning. I assume he will be gone by then?"

Mareke nodded. "He will not stay the night."

Oyna gave her a cheering smile. "Very good. I will see you in the morning as well."

After a moment, Mareke followed Oyna out of the bedroom and took a seat on the low sofa. Then it seemed like the minutes were passing by too quickly as she indulged in another glass of wine.

It had been over a year since she had taken anyone to bed. She had thought her time in Minas Tirith with Eomer would happen only once and had been prepared to spend the rest of her life without the touch of a man or the intimacy they had shared, but here he was again.

Even if she had wanted to, she would not have been able to stay away from the Rohirric King. Having his arms around her in the dim corridor earlier that night had nearly been her undoing.

She rose. Just thinking of his hands sliding up her thighs had the heat simmering low between her hips.

Her eyes closed remembering the feel of his lips on her throat.

She jumped as there was a light knocking at her door.

Once more, Mareke had to try very hard to still the racing of her heart. She stood and went to the door, standing behind it as she pulled it open, not wanting to risk being seen by anyone letting the King of Rohan into her chambers in her red ensemble.

When she carefully closed the door, Eomer's back was to her.

"Oh," he said, looking down at her when he turned around.

He did not say another word before he was upon her.

Mareke's feet lifted off the floor and she twined her arms around his neck as he kissed her hard, bruising her lips.

Her fingers went into his golden hair as he kissed down her neck, her head falling to the side.

"What is that?" he asked, inhaling her scent deeply.

"Sandalwood," she murmured.

"It is intoxicating," he said, looking down at her. "Just like you."

He straightened and looked her over. His fingers barely touched her, grazing from her collarbone to her hip. There was something even more seductive in seeing her in the blood red silk ensemble, bedecked in her royal jewelry. It was just as it had been when he had first seen her in Harad. She commanded her status and wore it like another garment. Somehow she had hidden that under his tunic in Minas Tirith, but now he would have her as a princess.

"Show me to your bedroom," he commanded. He was still a King and could make such demands of her if he so wished.

Mareke twined her fingers through his and pulled him after her. Eomer turned her back around to face him and he gently pushed the silk robe from her shoulders, exposing the patterned tattoo that spread from her shoulder down her chest, back, and arm.

He kissed the dark markings until he was met with her silk nightgown. He eased it down her body until it was pooled at her feet.

Eomer kicked out of his boots and pulled his tunic over his head before crushing Mareke's naked body against his bare chest. His fingers carded through her hair, pulling gently so that she was looking up into his face. "There were some very tortuous nights in Edoras spent thinking about you," he said. "And some even worse nights here."

"You can be through with those," Mareke whispered.

"I intend to be." He lifted her under her dark thighs, her legs wrapping around his waist. Carefully, he laid her on the low lying bed and knelt between her legs.

Mareke was nervous as it had been so long since she had laid with him, or anyone else for that matter. But she was anxious, remembering what unknown pleasure he had brought to her in Minas Tirith.

She assumed there had been shieldmaidens to warm his bed in Edoras, but she was not going to think of that then. She could not have dwelt on it if she had wanted to, lost in the sensation of his fingers teasing her as they were.

His rough hands trailed up the inside of her thighs and before he had even reached his intended destination, Mareke found herself biting her lip and moving in an effort to have him touch her where she most desired.

Her dark eyes closed slowly as one of his fingers slipped inside her.

Eomer very nearly could not contain himself at the mere sight of Mareke enjoying his attentions. His finger curled and her hips lifted off the bed of their own volition as Mareke gasped.

Quickly, he removed his touch and shoved his breeches down. He had to feel her around him.

Without much warning, he plunged himself into her, gathering her up into his arms at the same time so that she was straddling his lap. This put her at the perfect height from him to bury his face in her breasts, feeling the coldness of the moon pendant she wore, while still being able to press her lower back so that she took him as deeply as she could.

"Eomer," she breathed. Her dark fingers were in his hair. Not even in her most vivid rememberings had it felt so good to be one with him again.

The heat in her belly was almost too much to bear and it was not doused at all by Eomer kissing her neck and pinching one of her peaked buds between her fingers.

"Yes," he murmured as he felt her body tense; legs tightening around him, fingers pulling his hair roughly.

Mareke cried out as the ripples of ecstasy coursed through her entire body. She was too delirious to even notice when Eomer laid her flat on her back and drove deeply into her.

As Mareke came back to herself, she was once more confronted with the sheer size of Eomer. She felt as though she were being consumed by a mountain.

The muscles on his arms, shoulders, and chest rippled under fingers. Eomer's brown eyes were closed and his chin was tucked to his chest, causing his hair to fall in a golden curtain.

Eomer moaned into his release, but was aware enough to withdraw himself from Mareke, spilling himself on her stomach instead.

"We were fortunate once," he said, having caught his breath, echoing the same sentiment that she had to Oyna earlier in the evening.

He rose and fetched a linen sheet from the lavatory, wiping her clean before he laid back down on his side, propping himself on an elbow so that he could stare down at her.

Mareke was still revelling in the delicious afterglow of their reunion.

Eomer's huge hands brushed the wild curls from her forehead. Mareke turned her face into his palm and placed a kiss there.

"You should get some rest," Mareke said quietly.

"I do not want to leave," Eomer returned, sinking down next to her and adjusting them both so that she was lying with her head on his chest.

"You still have much to tend to."

"The most frustrating part of being a King," Eomer grumbled, chest rumbling under her cheek. "I would much rather stay locked in your bedroom than ever see the inside of a council chamber again."

"I would not mind that either, but what would we say to the servants? Or better yet, Adnan?"

Eomer sighed. "I know." He pressed a deep kiss to her lips, being very tempted to take her once more right then and there. "Might I return?" he asked, standing and pulling his breeches back on.

"I was hoping you would come back tomorrow," Mareke said, propping a pillow behind her so she could get a better look at him.

"As you wish, Princess."

ooooOoooo

Eomer came to Mareke's rooms every single night for a week after that. He could barely get through his meetings during the day or the social pleasantries required of him at night. It was torture to think of her bare flesh, the inviting warmth of her body, the scent of sandalwood that always lingered in the air around her and have to wait an entire day to get back to her bedroom.

Their coupling had, however, made it easier to tolerate watching the Princes Amrothos and Eldacar follow her around during the evening festivities.

He knew that what she was giving to him was so much more important and meaningful than the smiles and laughs and dances she bestowed on her two suitors.

Of course, that did not mean that he liked what he saw, but he was able to content himself knowing that only he had access to the princess during those dark nighttime hours.

One afternoon, Eomer set off to King Hashad's study where he was scheduled to have a private conference with the man.

When he arrived at the door, it was slightly ajar and he peered inside upon hearing voices, not wanting to intrude.

Mareke was leaning over her father's shoulder with a quill in her hand as they looked over some document or another. She was capably and definitively circling certain portions and scratching others out completely.

"I do not like this wording here," she said. "It is too vague. What exactly is the amount of grain that they will be providing in return for all of the spices that we have very clearly detailed and set out?"

Eomer found himself smiling.

He had watched her run her father's court for the duration of his visit, but he had not seen this side of her. He remained quiet as father and daughter went back and forth. It was not surprising exactly, perhaps just something he had been unaware of, but Mareke was intelligent and shrewd.

Eomer was grateful that it was not Rohan's treaty and trade agreement that she was picking apart piece by piece. Whoever's it was was being torn apart by both her astute remarks and the flashing of her quill.

When it seemed as though they were done, Eomer knocked on the door.

"Ah Eomer-King," King Hashad said, standing with a smile. Mareke dropped back behind her father and bowed her head. "I hope you were not waiting too long. I was just being enlightened on the finer points of trade agreements by the princess here."

"Not at all," Eomer replied. "Perhaps she could tutor me as well. I am not sure I am being as effective as possible in all of these meetings."

"I am sure that is not the case," Mareke demurred. She came around from behind her father's desk. "See to it that those changes are made. I would also consider demanding more horses from the King of Rohan," she said with a smirk as she left the study.

King Hashad shook his head, sitting back down with a sigh. "She actually had nothing negative to say about what Rohan is offering."

"I am pleased to hear it," Eomer said, sitting across from the older man. "I caught the last bit of work you were doing and was afraid that I would have to answer to the princess if she was not satisfied."

"I hope you do not think it unseemly that I have her helping me at this time. Without her brother…"

Eomer shook his head. "It seems quite normal to me. In Rohan, our shieldmaidens have been known to go to battle amongst the eoreds, defend the strongholds, and the Queens have long sat in council meetings and acted as advisors."

"Quite the progressive place."

"I would like to think so," Eomer replied. After that they set to work to make sure that their treaty and trade agreements were in order.

ooooOoooo

A few days later, there had been a meeting of all of the royalty and nobility gathered to discuss what would be done if war ever came back around to Middle Earth. Of course, it was decided that everyone would be allies. Not one of their Realms would be left alone if a threat ever emerged.

It was a quick meeting as no one had wanted to argue against being a united front in the face of future evil.

Mareke, Oyna, and Adnan were near the entrance to the public gardens, about to take a walk together when Prince Eldacar approached them.

"Ah, Princess Mareke," he said, bowing slightly to her. "Just who I was looking for."

Adnan eyed the oily man from beside his mother.

"I was wondering if you would accompany me on a walk through the gardens. Just the two of us. Your maid can escort the Crown Prince back inside." He glanced at Adnan, trying to make it very plain that the Crown Prince was not invited.

"I have promised my son that we would spend the afternoon together," Mareke replied as diplomatically as she could manage. "We have not spent nearly enough time together since all of the guests have arrived."

"Surely you might enjoy a quick stroll. I will return you to Prince Adnan promptly."

"I really must insist that we do so another time," she said. "A promise is a promise, after all."

"You would not really be breaking a promise. You can walk with him when we are through." Prince Eldacar grasped Mareke above the elbow, pulling her close to him. Mareke struggled in his tight grip, but the man would not release her.

"She said no!" Adnan exclaimed.

Oyna stood back with a hand pressed to her mouth.

"You are a little young yet to be your mother's defender, boy," Prince Eldacar said roughly.

Before Mareke knew what was happening, there was a flash of silver as Adnan pulled a small blade from his belt and gave the other prince a menacing glare.

Prince Eldacar gave a cold laugh and then looked cruelly at the boy, releasing his mother. "It will take a little more than that, you Southron brat!"

Adnan stood his ground even as the man lunged around Mareke for him. She tried to stop him, but there was a scuffle she could not explain and then the sound of bone against bone. There was a scream from Oyna.

When Mareke had gathered herself, Prince Eldacar was flat on the floor, not moving, and Eomer towered over him, chest heaving, rubbing his knuckles.

"The Crown Prince," he said quietly, nodding behind Mareke.

She whipped around to see Adnan struggling to his feet, hand pressed to his forehead. Blood was pouring from between his fingers and his lips were trembling.

"Oh habibi," she murmured, drawing him against her chest, not caring about the blood that was certainly ruining her dress. "Let us go back to your rooms and get your patched up."

Without a word, Eomer followed the women and Adnan, who was tucked tightly against his mother's side. He had still not let tears fall.

"Oyna, fetch my healing things and a jug of wine, please," Mareke said. She turned to Eomer, ushering Adnan into his bedroom before her. "You do not have to stay. I would speak with you later."

"I want to," he said resolutely.

"Very well."

As they waited for Oyna, Mareke gently pried her son's hand away from his face. There was a deep gash over his left eyebrow, a result of hitting the hard stone floor, she imagined.

Eomer stood to the side, trying to stay out of Mareke's way as she went to the basin in the corner to wash her hands. She returned with a linen square and sat on the edge of Adnan's bed, pressing it to his forehead.

"Thank you for what you did," Mareke said to her son, smiling down at him. "I am not sure what I would do without you and your courage."

"He should not have touched you," Adnan said, still defensive despite his injury.

"You are right about that," Eomer said, huge arms crossed over his chest, brow furrowed just thinking about the scene he had found as he walked through the corridors.

Before anything else could be said, Oyna returned, holding a goblet of wine out to the young boy. "Only take a small sip," Mareke bid him.

Adnan did as he was told and to Eomer seemed like he had done it before.

"This is not the first time I have acted as a healer to my son," Mareke said when she saw the King's face. "He has broken a handful of bones already and this is not the first set of stitches he has had either."

Eomer actually laughed. "You are the epitome of a young man then, Prince Adnan," he said warmly.

Mareke ran a needle through a candle on the bedside table and then threaded it with a very fine strand of mumak tendon. "Ready?" she asked her son.

Adnan nodded and closed his eyes, sinking back into the pillows.

Eomer would have thought he was relaxed, but he saw the way his small, dark hands clutched the silk sheets around him.

"You were very brave, Adnan," Eomer said to distract both himself and the boy. "Your mother is lucky to have you."

"It was nothing," the boy replied.

"It was everything," Eomer corrected him, but then changed course. "I picked this up." He laid the small blade on Adnan's beside table. "It is quite remarkable craftsmanship. Where did you get it?"

"My Uncle Na'man. He said I had to protect Mother after he was gone to fight."

The adults went silent. Mareke kept her head bent to her task and blinked tears rapidly away.

The boy only hissed in pain once as his mother sewed him back together with five neat stitches. She knotted the last suture and leaned back to admire her work. Once more, she took up the linen square and dabbed away the blood from his forehead before she carefully rubbed a salve over the cut with her index finger.

The wine had clearly done what it was intended to do as Adnan had fallen asleep under his mother's gentle touch. She pulled his sandals off and pulled the sheets up around him.

Oyna was cleaning the mess and taking Mareke's things back to her rooms.

"He will be alright?" Eomer asked.

For one who had seemingly endured many injuries, he was pale from watching the actual healing of one.

"He will be fine," Mareke sighed, swiping her hand over her face. "Perhaps a headache tomorrow."

"And you?" Eomer asked. He glanced around to make sure that no servant was present and then he wrapped her in his arms, tight against his chest.

Mareke could not relax, still shaken from the encounter with Prince Eldacar and fearful that someone would walk in and catch their embrace.

When Eomer realized that he was not offering her much comfort, he released her.

"I am grateful you were there," she said as a consolation.

"Adnan had it under control," Eomer said with a sad smile.

"He is too young to think that protecting me is his responsibility," Mareke said.

Eomer noticed a rawness in her voice that he had never heard before.

As though she realized the same thing, she shook her head. "You must have things to see to," she said, not wanting to add a new layer to their physical relationship with her vulnerability.

Eomer nodded in understanding, not contradicting her. With a slight bow he left the Crown Prince's rooms.

There you have it! What did you think? I love hearing from you all and getting any thoughts and ideas you have. Always interested in constructive criticism as well. How else am I going to improve?

I have a question: Do you think Eomer and Mareke would be intimate in the chapters where they're back in Minas Tirith ten years later?

Happy reading,

Avonmora