AN: OK, obviously the HTML tags didn't take. How do I add bold/italic fonts?!? I may have to break down to read the FAQ, or something...:P **Insert standard disclaimer here** Kudos and thanks to all who have reviewed! I love getting the mail ;)
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I managed to keep my act going for a week. Although I knew I would slip at some point, I hadn't expected my mistake to come as soon as it did. As usual, my pride—and my temper—was my downfall.

The momentous day began with the arrival of Eomer's sister. Eowyn and her new husband Faramir, my cousin, had come to Rohan for the birth of their first child. When my father told me this I was curious, because it was usual for babies to be born in the country they would be raised in. He explained, chuckling all the while, that when I met the eight-month pregnant Shieldmaid of Rohan, I would understand why her husband had bowed to her wishes. Evidently it wasn't a good idea to argue with her.

I was thrilled to be seeing my dear cousin again, and to finally have the chance to meet the woman who had stolen his heart. Waiting in the great Hall, (my charade wouldn't let me run outside to greet them) I watched them arrive. Faramir was looking as handsome as ever, travel-weary though he was, in his dusty embroidered tunic and cloak, but Eowyn immediately captured my attention.

She was wearing a loose blue maternity gown, which failed utterly to disguise her advanced pregnancy. Her hair was lovely and golden, but she had it wound sloppily around her head, presumably for convenience during the journey, giving her the appearance of wearing a small yellow turban. What caught my attention, though, was the familiarity around her—something in her manner and bearing caught my notice. It seemed almost that we were distant kin. (Which, technically, we were. But only by marriage.)

Eowyn called to her brother across the room. "Eomer! We're here! Come and let me see you, it's been too long!" the King bounded across the room to embrace his sister, and glare at Faramir.

"I ought to beat you for getting her in this condition." He growled.

Faramir only rolled his eyes. "Nice to see you again, too, brother." He said, stressing the 'brother'.

Eomer had to laugh. "Eowyn, do you need to rest, or anything? It must have been a hard ride..."

His sister snapped back at him. "I'm pregnant, not dying, Eomer. I'm just fine. If anything, I need a good long walk through the stables; I've been sitting in a wagon for days, because my over-protective husband wouldn't let me ride a horse." Eowyn glowered at Faramir.

He replied quite casually. "You knew very well that that was one of the conditions of coming to Rohan for the baby's birth. No risks whatsoever on the journey here.

I gathered that they'd had this argument before.

Introductions to my father followed. He spied me in the shadows at the edge of the room and beckoned me over.

"Lothiriel! Come and meet your new cousin!" he called. I adjusted my high-necked, ugly-though-impeccably-tailored dress, and walked serenely over to the group. My father presented me to the couple. I nodded politely to them. Faramir raised an eyebrow at my uncharacteristically-quiet greeting, but said nothing.

Eowyn studied my face intently all through the introductions. I finally escaped to my room after a suitably polite interval, gratefully loosening the neck of my gown as I headed back to my sketchbook and my window.
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Late that afternoon I snuck into the stables. My face was veiled and I was wearing a peasant's garb in case anyone saw me, because the Perfectly Prim Princess of Dol Amroth wouldn't be caught dead in a grimy old stable. Despite my fondness for sketching, the boredom of sitting inside, alone, all day was getting to me, so I risked a sojourn outdoors.

I was inside one of very few empty stalls examining the wood-carving (The Rohirrim arguably treated their horses better than they treated themselves) when I heard voices. I recognized Eomer and Eowyn immediately.

"So, brother, I sense an attempt at an arranged marriage is happening here. What think you of Princess Lothiriel?"

Eomer snorted. "It's what the ambassadors want, not I. You met her—how could I possible marry such a cold, stiff woman as that? Talking to her enough to simply be polite is bad enough—imagine trying to bed her! I don't understand. I saw her cut the face of an outlaw hassling her, then she had the spirit to harass me for being a soldier...but that spirited girl disappeared before I had the chance to get to know her, and now I'm stuck with the Ice Maid of Dol Amroth."

"She does seem that way, doesn't she?" Eowyn sounded thoughtful.

"What do you mean by that?"
Now Eowyn sounded amused. "I mean, dear brother, that if you would open your eyes a bit you'd see that it's all an act! She's rather like I was before I met Faramir...scared to death of winding up chained to someone or something she hates. So frightened, in fact, that she's putting on an elaborate pretense of cold-heartedness to keep you from offering for her. In fact, I'll bet you anything she's done it before."

"Well, she needn't worry. I wouldn't marry her if she was the last woman on earth, now. Wait till you see her at dinner. The butter won't melt in her mouth, I guarantee it." With that, Eomer and Eowyn continued on past the stables.

I was incensed. Frightened! Me, Lothiriel, princess of Dol Amroth, daughter of Imrahil, frightened? Of a mere man? Never! How dare they say such things about me? I wasn't afraid of anything, I told myself angrily, and I would show them.

Famous last words.
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