Wow, a LotR story from me that is NOT AU or Aragorn/Eowyn!

I wasn't sure exactly how far we're permitted to go with regards to love scenes, so I did cut out a fairly tame love scene in the middle of the story. It's nothing majorly great and the story seems to flow about the same without it, but if there's anyone in need of Eomer/Lothiriel smut, I'm willing to email it privately.

And in case anyone's wondering (which you probably aren't), I had British actress Keira Knightley in my mind's eye as Lothiriel as I wrote this last night.

I'd like to thank all the other Eomer/Lothiriel writers out there for giving me the inspiration to post this.

This is my first LotR fic, so I would appreciate any constructive criticism, no matter how small. Reviews are welcome, flames will be met with the like.

Enjoy!

New Memories For A New Life

Lothiriel rested her cheek against Eomer's chest as they gazed out at Pelennor Field. She could remember the events of just barely a year ago as if she was seeing them unfold with her waking eyes. She remember the fear and the anguish of seeing Faramir brought into the Houses; she had been half-sick with it at the time. She had gone to her beloved cousin, but there were too many other people who had needed her attention. She recalled the moans of the dead and the dying and the awful feeling of futility that had permeated the Houses of Healing as the orcs stormed in.

Lothiriel shut her eyes, remembering shouting at those who were able to stand their ground and fight. How many people had been condemned to death by that order, screamed out in a moment of desperation and panic? Lothiriel herself had taken up Faramir's sword in the defense of those who could not defend herself. By the grace of Elbereth, she had lived.

She felt Eomer's chest heave as his breath hitched. She looked up at him and saw the weight of his memories etched in his eyes.

"Tell me what you are feeling." she reached up to touch his cheek.

The King of Rohan had been very difficult to read in the beginning of their association with each other. He had rushed into the Houses of Healing long after the last of the wounded had been brought in. Later she had found out that her father had discovered his sister alive on the battlefield. He had been able to spend only a moment holding Lady Eowyn's hand before rushing off to join the newly returned king and his companions in the throne room. He had come back immediately afterwards to his sister's bedside, where Lothiriel had discovered him in the middle of the night. She had covered him with a blanket and left an apple with him, for she knew he would be hungry when he woke the following morning.

"I thought I had lost everything." Eomer replied, his voice tight and shaking with pent-up emotion. "My uncle lay dead under his horse and Eowyn lay very near him. I gave her up for dead. I lost hope. And I went back into battle determined to take as many of those foul perversions of life with me as I could."

Lothiriel wrapped her arm around his waist and kissed his shoulder through his armor. "That is with you still?"

Eomer hung his head. The burden of truth had become too much for him to bear alone. He could not in good conscience allow Lothiriel to fall deeper in love with him until she had all of the facts of his existence. It was the reason he had brought her out here, alone, before the others would make the official trip. Eowyn had invited him to come with her last night after dinner, but he had declined. He knew he had to confront the demons within himself without his sister's help.

Yet he suddenly found himself wishing that he was with anyone save Lothiriel at this moment in time. He knew very well how she viewed him, as the great hero, the brave new king of Rohan, and the only man she had ever been willing to give up her home for. The man she knew, or that she thought she knew, was strong and brave and true. But more than that, Lothiriel loved a man who was still infallibly human. And now he was about to shatter her illusions.

"Yes." he said in reply to her question. "Not everyday, but sometimes the truth of what I really am hits me when I least expect it."

"And this supposed truth is...?" she asked, quietly.

A part of his heart had already begun to mourn the loss of Lothiriel last night when he wrenched himself awake from a nightmare and realized that he had to tell her everything. He had enjoyed pretending with the young princess of Dol Amroth that he was a man in the tradition of the great Elessar, her own brave and heroic cousin, and her stalwart father and brothers. But it could go on no longer, for it would only hurt both of them even more when the truth eventually came out. Better to get it all over with now, so that she at least could move on with her life.

Lothiriel had suspected that something was amiss with the young king of Rohan from almost the moment he had arrived in Minas Tirith for the commemoration of the Great Siege and March on the Black Gate that had ended the War of the Ring. She knew him well enough now to be concerned over his brooding and the way he withdrew from the others unless they had immediate need of him.

She had mentioned her concerns to Eowyn and Faramir, both of whom had advised time and patience. Eowyn had not been all that concerned, claiming that her brother had never been groomed to be King and was therefore probably losing a good deal of sleep as he learned what he needed to know to lead their people.

Looking at Eomer now, Lothiriel knew she had been right to worry.

"Eomer?" she prodded, slipping her small hand into his large one. "Please tell me whatever it is you're trying so desperately not to."

Eomer took a deep, shuddering breath and squeezed her hand, praying that she would understand.

"I lost hope, and with that my humanity as well." he confessed to her, squeezing his eyes shut. "I killed indiscriminately in this place, Lothiriel. Man, orc, beast, it did not matter to me. They were all the same and I intended to wipe out as many as I could before joining my sister and uncle in the halls of our fathers."

Eomer's voice shook; indeed, his entire body shook with emotion and fatigue and the effort it took to make this admission to her, the woman he loved above all others now.

"I was a coward, Lothiriel." he nearly choked on the words as they left his lips. But she needed to know everything. "I did not want to face life alone. Even after the battle was won and I discovered that my sister lived still, I still felt as if I was hollow inside. And after Aragorn told me that Eowyn would live, still I dared not hope until after we had spoken."

Eomer's confession moved Lothiriel deeply. It was not all men who had the courage to admit weakness to anyone, let alone a woman. Lothiriel had seen enough of the War during the Siege to know much of man's potential for darkness and evil. But she also knew Eomer, far better than he thought she did.

Slowly she dismounted from Firefoot. "Your memories of this place are terrible." she said simply. "Memories no one should be burdened with."

Looking down at her, Eomer nodded. He was too spent to say another word.

Lothiriel offered him her hand. "Let us make a new memory."

Eomer stared at her, not comprehending her true meaning. Almost of its own accord, his hand reached out to find its mate and she tugged him down from his horse and led him down the hill leading to the forest. It was a fairly secluded area, covered with trees.

Reaching a small clearing covered with soft moss and grasses and protected from the sun by the trees, Lothiriel tugged her hair free of its bindings. She shook her head several times to fully free her dark locks. Moving so slowly she might have been a dream, she gently removed his helmet from his head. Her palm moved slowly across his cheek and he leaned into it, sighing wearily.

"I am not the man you think I am." Eomer shut his eyes and wondered how in all of Arda he had been gifted with such a treasure.

Hearing a rustle, he opened his eyes. An involuntary gasp escaped his lips when he saw her.

Lothiriel stood before him, clad only in her shift and underclothes. She smiled at him encouragingly. "You are the man I love. The light and the darkness. All of you, Eomer."

"Lothiriel." Words seemed so inadequate.

"Ssh." Lothiriel laid a finger on his lips, which she soon replaced with her own lips in a soft kiss.

Eomer responded with more gentleness than he believed himself capable of, grazing her mouth lightly with his own. He had never felt this complete, this content, within the confines of a single kiss.

When Lothiriel pulled back slightly, he rested his hands lightly on her shoulders, trying to regain his equilibrium.

Sensing his hesitation, she stroked his hair.

"I am yours." she vowed simply. "As you are mine."

Something in Eomer broke at her quiet acceptance of his truths. He leaned in and captured her mouth with his, thrilling at the sounds of her sighing. As he trailed butterfly kisses along her neck and throat, he was vaguely aware that she was removing his armor. Stepping away, but never breaking the kiss, he assisted her with the removal. In the back of his mind, he knew that he was not behaving properly, that he should be man enough to wait until their wedding night, or at least until a formal betrothal could be announced.

But he was only a man.

"Marry me." he mumbled between kisses. "Stay with me always, my princess."

"Yes." she murmured.

The rest of his armor fell to the ground and Lothiriel reached for his shirt, undoing the laces. As it joined the rest of their piling clothes on the forest floor, Eomer lifted Lothiriel into his arms. With one arm he supported her weight, while he tugged at her shift with the other. As he tossed it to the ground, Lothiriel made a sound that he would only describe as a purr and wrapped a leg around his waist.

Startled by the new closeness, Eomer nearly lost his footing. As it was, he knew he could possibly last much longer in his current position and condition. Swinging her into his arms, he laid her gently atop his cloak. Lothiriel propped herself on her elbows and watched, fascinated, as he removed his pants and breeches. Catching her gaze, he smiled and knelt beside her, stroking her cheek.

"I want no misunderstanding between us, Princess." he remarked, a hint of humor lighting up his eyes. "I mean to make you my queen, no matter what happens here today."

Lothiriel grinned mischievously, pulling him halfway on top of her. "You will make me yours first, my king. I will not become your queen until I am your wife."

Joyously, Eomer dipped his head down to hers to kiss her sweet lips once again.

Some time later...

Lothiriel opened her eyes to discover herself cradled against Eomer's chest, halfway atop him. She smiled when she realized he must have rolled them over to keep himself from crushing her small body. She stroked his massive chest and looked up at him. He was gazing at her contemplatively as he stroked her hair.

"I had meant to pull out before..." he started, then trailed off. That could not be the right thing to say to the woman you were going to marry.

But Lothiriel only laughed and kissed his shoulder. "You look so grave, my lord." She remarked, moving off him so she could better observe her lover.

"I am only thinking of your honor." Eomer retorted lightly, drawing his saddle blanket over them. The air was beginning to chill, but Eomer was loathe to leave this place just yet. "How many brothers do you have again?"

"I seduced you, remember?" Lothiriel teased him. "If anyone should be, it's me who should be thinking of your honor. And your sister is much more frightening than any of my brothers."

"I know not much of your ways, but I know enough to know that I will not permit you to be dishonored by this." Eomer persisted. "'Tis a real concern, my princess."

"Not this time, my lord." she assured him seriously. "I have kept track of my fertile periods ever since my uncle tried to convince my father to marry me off to one of the Haradrim tribal lords in the interests of peace. I was thirteen at the time."

Eomer was flabbergasted and not a little annoyed that the former Steward had been so willing to use such a treasure in such a way. "Then Steward Denethor was a fool long before he was a raving lunatic."

"That was the general consensus among my brothers." Lothiriel agreed, snuggling closer to him. "It pains me to say it, for he was my uncle and his son is one of the dearest people in the world to me, but it is better that he is dead. He never would have approved of Eowyn for Faramir."

Eomer bristled at the thought of anyone disapproving of his sister. "We have already established that he was a fool."

"Not for the reason you may think." Lothiriel remarked softly, taking his hand in hers. "Had Eowyn fallen in love with Boromir, Denethor would have been thrilled. It would have been Faramir who wasn't good enough for her."

Eomer sensed the lingering sadness in her regarding his brother-in-law. He silently resolved to treat Faramir as an honored member of his family, especially now since he and Faramir would be family twice over.

"At any rate," Lothiriel recalled the subject at hand, "I'm sorry to say you have not begotten an heir this time, Eomer King."

Grinning wickedly, Eomer flipped over so that he was on top of her. "There is a saying, I know not the origin, but it may apply to this situation."

"And what is that?" Lothiriel asked, though it was becoming hard to concentrate on his words when his hands were doing things that were not conducive to conversation.

"If at first you don't succeed..." he leaned in to kiss her again.

Comments? Flames? Criticisms? Any and all reviews are welcome.