A/N: sorry this has taken so long. our computer crashed on sunday and the word processor wasn't re-installed until yesterday evening. unfortunately, the spellcheck isn't working, so if there are any spelling mistakes, i apologize, and i'd appreciate it if someone could point them out so i can fix them. thankies.

disclaimer all the oc's are mine, as are the personalities of the others.

Chapter XXVII

June, T.A. 3021

"Lothiriel," Erchirion called to his sister who was swimming in the creek, "we have guests."

She turned and saw him on the bridge. Eomer. A flood of emotions swept through her: joy, anger, confusion, sadness, relief. She blinked a couple times, trying unsuccessfully to put together a complete thought. At last, she managed to create a sentence. "What are you doing here?" she whispered.

They looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Lothiriel looked away.

"You came back," she said. "Why?" She looked up at him. Erchirion, meanwhile, took this as a dismissal and discreetly excused himself.

Eomer shrugged. "I had to. It was torturing me."

Lothiriel hung her head. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," she said quietly.

"No." They lapsed into silence again. "Mista told me what you told her." Eomer began to walk down to the sandy bank. "I'm sorry. I should have let you talk." He now stood on the sand by the bridge; Lothiriel watched him, the water lapping at her thighs.

"I should have told you. About Sarn, I mean. We grew up together, you know. It was always him and me and Mista and Faramir and Erchirion. We went on grand adventures together, hunting and fishing and play-fighting. We tried to sail to the Undying Lands, though we always returned for supper. We ran amok at the wharfs, terrorizing the customers at Saberman's Pub, listening to their stories. It was a good life." Tears filled her voice as she walked through the water to the shore, and Eomer realized that this was the first real account of Lothiriel's childhood he'd ever heard.

"But then it all changed. Faramir returned to Minas Tirith to become captain of the guard; Sarn joined the navy and became a sailor; Mista and Erchirion fell in love; and I was sent to Rivendell where I would wait ten years to be returned to the home I love. At first, it was an adventure, like in my younger years, but before long it became nothing more than a gilded prison of silk and marble. I spent ten long years of my life there, wishing and waiting for someone to come for me."

She smiled sadly. "And then you came. I must admit that I hated you for quite some time. Or maybe not so much you, but the idea that you represented. You were not returning me to my home; you were merely transporting me from one gilded prison to another. And so I ran away. Those few weeks were the best of my life. I have never had so much freedom as Lothiriel as I had as Alquayendi. I doubt I shall ever have such freedom ever again. But then you returned, and swept me off my feet--" here, she laughed "--though I did not appreciate it until later. As we traveled the long road between Bree and Edoras, I fell in love. At least, I think that's when it happened. I did not know for sure that I was in love until after our duel. And then we returned home, to Dol Amroth, where things that should not have taken place did, and where things that should have happened did not." She paused, and then continued. "I have no regrets, though. I love you, Eomer. I love you more than anyone else in all of Arda. I know I have no right to your love, so I will not ask it of you. I only ask, no beg, your forgiveness. I have given you nothing but grief since we first met. Perhaps it would be best if I live my life alone." And with that, she walked away.

Eomer watched her go, dumbfounded by the revelation of Lothiriel's life. At last, his emotions managed to creep up on him, sadness and regret, along with a third emotion that he could not quite place. It overwhelmed all other feelings, and slowly, the horse-lord realized it was love. True love, like in the old tales the Elves told in Rivendell. He was deeply, madly in love with her. She returned his love, though he did not deserve it by any means. He wanted--needed--to tell her that he loved her. He turned, but she was gone. He scanned the banks for her. She was almost to the stables. He began to run toward her. "Lothiriel!" he called.

She stopped. Eomer caught up with her. He put a hand on her shoulder. She turned slowly. "Lady Lothiriel," he said, taking her head in his hands, "if you choose to live your life as a lonely maiden of Dol Amroth, I will die a lonely lord of Rohan. Would you be queen for a lonely king?"

"A queen for a king?" echoed Lothiriel. "Nay." Pain filled Eomer's hazel eyes. She smiled and brushed a lock of hair from his face. "I would rather be a wife for a husband."

Eomer smiled. "I think that can be arranged." He leaned toward her and kissed her lightly, pulling back after a moment. "Can you forgive me, my love?" he whispered.

"For what?"

"For despairing. I thought I'd lost you."

"Lost me?" she asked. "That is strange, for I believed you to be the one I had lost."

"But can you forgive me?" he persisted.

Lothiriel put her arms around his neck and pulled him into a second, longer, kiss.

The four companions returned to Dol Amroth with far lighter hearts than they had left. The wedding was set for Midsummer, and all of the royal houses of the Free Peoples would be in attendance. The wedding would take place in Dol Amroth, but it would be done in traditional Rohirric style.

Never before had the City by the Sea been host to such a grand event. Gifts and guests for the King and Queen of Rohan came from all across the land: the Hobbits of the Shire sent pipeweed and ale with their representatives, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took; the Elves of Rivendell sent silk and thread for the queen; of course, the King and Queen of Gondor brought gifts as well; and the Lady Harrana presented the young rulers with gold and copper from the land of Harad. But perhaps the finest gifts given that day were those exchanged between the bride and groom. She presented her lord with a silver knife, the hilt engraved with a swan. Likewise, he presented his lady with a necklace of gold, the pendant engraved with a horse.

And after the feasting had died down, the lady of the swan and the lord of the horse retired to their rooms to better know one another.

fin