DISCLAIMER: The names, places, things are Tolkien's. I think we can all figure out what is who's.

AN: thanks again for the reviews!! hope you like =]

Chapter 18: My Poor Heart

Lothiriel,

First and foremost, I hope you are well, and that your family is well. It has been months now, and I only hope that this letter reaches you somehow, because by the tone of your writings, I have come to suspect that you have not received the other letters I've written. However, I find myself waiting at the gates of Edoras for the messenger that bears your letters to me. It seems the impatience of hearing word from you comes without failure. I am so sorry that this is happening, Lothiriel, and I wish I could explain myself further. It is only a matter of trust, that you must trust me when I say that I will return to you. I suppose I do not have much else to say. Everything here is well, though I miss you terribly. I love you Lothiriel, and I cannot wait to hold you again.

You have my heart,
Eomer.

Eomer looked over the letter, this being his second time reading it. What he had written was true, he assumed foul play when it came to the arrival of these letters, for in each of Lothiriel's letters, her desperation became more and more evident, though he'd reassure her constantly in his replies. He would not entirely give up hope, however, and so he gave the note to his messenger and sent the boy on his way to Dol Amroth.

It had been two months since Eomer last saw Lothiriel, and the separation was becoming more than he could handle, and in truth, the separation seemed to be more than anyone could handle; for on many occasions the King was found staring blankly into nothing, much to the dismay of his advisors and friends. Everything reminded him of Lothiriel, or a time they've spent together, and he felt himself gradually falling mad with loneliness with each day that passed.

"My lord?"

It seemed Eomer had blanked out once again as he stared out of one of the windows in the hall. Pulling himself from his thoughts, he turned to see Elfhelm standing before him.

"Yes Elfhelm?" he replied, his voice echoing a bit in the great hall.

"It is nothing, sir, I only meant to ask if you are well. You seem to be preoccupied. In truth, sire, you seem to be preoccupied quite often," Elfhelm said meekly, not wanting to upset Eomer.

"I know, I am sorry. I just, well I miss her, Elfhelm. You know when we are together, we carry such conversation that would seem like complete nonsense and things of unimportance to others, but to the two of us it is conversation worth hearing," Eomer stated, beginning to feel a bit of nostalgia. Elfhelm realized this, and decided to humor his melancholy King.

"What sort of things surface in these conversations, my Lord?"

"Oh, well you know, things of our homes and our individual cities. She tells me stories of her childhood and adolescence, and confides in me her dreams and aspirations, and what she used to want to do with her life when she was a child. I tell her many of the same things, but I always find my stories to be of no comparison to hers," Eomer replied, as he took a seat on his grand throne. Elfhelm pulled a chair to where Eomer sat and seated himself across from him.

"Has she led an interesting life then?"

"In truth, Elfhelm, she has led a rather normal life, save her mother's death and the War of the Ring. Despite those odds, however, she seemed determined to not let her life fall apart."

"That is most admirable, my Lord, especially for a girl of young age."

"Truly," Eomer replied, sighing. "After the War, and especially after Faramir asked for Eowyn's hand in marriage, I did not think I had much to look forward to. This business of being King, I am more driven by the thought of my people rather than personal want. But she has changed my perspective, Elfhelm. I would look forward to each new day if I knew I would be sharing the rest of my days with her."

Elfhelm only nodded silently in response, as Eomer buried his face in his hands. He meant to say something comforting to the King, but Eomer interrupted him before he could even begin.

"I will go for a ride out of the city, Elfhelm. I need to clear my head."

"Of course, my Lord. When should we expect you?"

"I will return come nightfall, or maybe before. I do not wish to be out too long."

Elfhelm bowed slightly in acknowledgement, as Eomer took his leave of him and exited the hall, making his way to the stables. Elfhelm sighed heavily, and wondered what he, or any of Eomer's friends could do to lift the young King's spirits.

An Hour or so Later...

Firefoot galloped forward and halted when coming up to a small field of tall grass. Eomer quickly dismounted and patted the horse's mane, cooing words of peace and calm, and gratitude for the horse's tiring obedience. The King let his horse walk about freely, to get some rest, as he slumped onto the ground, leaning back on his arms and stretching out his legs.

Eomer could see the sunset from where he sat. He watched, as the feel of the soft, tall grass swaying with the breeze relaxed him into a reverie. Lying flat on his back and now looking up to the amber sky, he closed his eyes to try and calm his thoughts.

'Try not to think of her,' he told himself, taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly. It felt so peaceful, and the field was deserted, Eomer hearing the sound of his breathing and Firefoot lightly chewing on grass. But as he listened closely, he could hear some sort of mumbling. He quickly sat up to try and listen more intently, whistling to Firefoot to halt whatever it was he was doing. His hand rested gently on the hilt of his sword, as he heard the mumbling sound yet again, and a bit louder this time.

As he stood up, he decided to investigate, and listened to try and find just where the sound was coming from. Eomer threw his gaze left and right, the sound becoming louder, which meant he was close.

"Aldfrid!"

Eomer turned suddenly, and quickly ran to where he heard the cry. What he found surprised him, for it was a woman asleep on the ground, the tall grass hiding her completely. The girl looked young, well, younger than he anyway; maybe a year or two older than Lothiriel. Her hair looked like a dirty blond, though he was not sure whether or not that was the true color, for it could have been that she was just dirty in general. Her clothes were clearly soiled, and streaks of dust lined her pale face. She seemed to be dreaming violently, as tears were streaming down her face. The King felt pity for her, and knelt besides her, shaking her lightly to try and wake her.

"Miss?" Eomer said gently, repeating it over and over as the woman continued to cry out. "Miss??"

At that moment the woman sat straight up, her lips meeting perfectly with Eomer's for he hovered over her. Eomer suddenly turned immobile, the shock of what was happening paralyzing him, as the woman wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him deeper into the kiss.

TBC...

hope it wasn't too boring =]