AN: I need to go to bed…But aside from that: Am I the youngest person in the world to be addicted to romance novels? Really. I need help.

He felt me staring at him. Withdrawing his attention from the others around the table, he focused his gaze upon me. I nearly melted…such eyes! Deep, deep brown, like the exotic drink I had tried once called chaokolatt. Smooth and dark, but with a light in them that rivaled the sun. They froze me to the ground, those eyes. I was riveted. I could not move, I could not breathe, I could only stand and wait for him to release me.

"It looks as though we have company, men." Eomer said quietly. I could barely hear him from the door. His voice was low, and a little rough, but pleasantly so.

Goodness, listen to me! I sound like a besotted maid…but then, that's what I was.

Eomer called out from the table as his companions grew quiet. "I know all the faces that inhabit this town, yet yours is strange to me. What is your name, girl?"

His brisk tone broke the spell his eyes had placed upon me, and I realized where I was, and what I was doing. Now I had to make a good impression or I would be sent away. I curtsied excellently, then straightened my back.

"My name is Ria, my lord. I am looking for work and was told that the King's household might be in need of a cook or seamstress. We only just arrived."

The man sitting to Eomer's left spoke up. "Strange…from your demeanor I would have pegged you to be a noblewoman rather than a peasant. Still," he rose and came towards me, "We do indeed have need of someone who can make fine clothing for grand occasions. My name is Halathain, and I am the steward of the Hall. I will show you to quarters where you can rest, and we will discuss your position in the morning. Come." Halathain led me out a smaller door into a torch-lit passageway. He was a middle-aged man of medium height, with a reddish-yellow beard and slightly thinning hair. Pleasant laugh lines surrounded his eyes. As I stepped through the door, I stole a glance over my shoulder. Eomer was still watching me, with a puzzled look on his face. I quickly whipped back around.

The room I was given was small and sparse, but clean. There was a high window to let in light, a small nightstand by a small bed, and a row of hooks in the wall for hanging clothes. The walls were painted a clean white, and rushes were scattered on the floor. The first thing I did after Halathain left me was to take Eowyn's scroll out of my cloak pocket and hide it under the mattress of the bed. It would be slightly crushed, no doubt, but at least I couldn't lose it there. Next, I unpacked my spare dress, another plain garment that was nevertheless conspicuously fine for a servant, and hung it up. With relief I stepped out of my low boots and kicked them against a wall. I undressed tiredly and fell onto the bed. The last thing I thought of before sleep claimed me was a pair of dark brown eyes.

"Ria! Wake up, Ria."

I opened my eyes to find the room barely lighter than it had been when I'd fallen asleep. Sitting up slightly, I recognized Calla bending over me shaking my arm. Though it was still dark, I could see that she looked excited.

"Good morning, I think."

"The sun will rise soon. We must report to Halathain, the Hall Steward before then for our assignments." Calla grasped my arms and pulled me upright, then tossed me my plain gray silk dress.

I hurriedly pulled it on. "I should have told you where I was staying the night, Calla. I'm sorry…I hope I wasn't any trouble to find?"

Calla snorted and began doing up my buttons for me. "Nay, no trouble at all, Ria. Within an hour of your arrival at Meduseld, I daresay, the entire household was abuzz with rumors of the beautiful young seamstress with eyes like the sky after a storm who walks with all the dignity of a queen. Or should I say princess?"

"Shh!"

She laughed and began pulling a comb through my tangled hair. Calla was indeed an excellent ladies' maid: I hardly felt any discomfort as she worked through the mess. "Don't worry. I don't think word has yet reached Rohan of the runaway princess of Dol Amroth, but don't hold your breath. Gossip spreads quicker than plague, and I'm sure we'll be hearing talk soon. In the meantime," she whipped my kerchief and tied it expertly over my now-bound-up hair. "Keep your locks hidden. Nobody around here has ever seen hair this color, and that's the first thing they'll talk of, if given the chance."

"What is it about my hair? I know that most Rohirrim are blondes, but surely you've seen brown-haired people before…" I crossed my arms and looked at Calla in askance. She chuckled.

"It's not just brown, and you know it. It's dark red, like fine polished cherry wood. Don't think people won't notice! If any of that Swanguard bring a message here, they'll give a description of you for sure." I grimaced, which Calla seemed to find quite amusing, as she was laughing while she led me out the door, down the hallway to an attached outbuilding that turned out to be the kitchen.

The cooks had already been up for hours, and the smell of baking bread and sweet rolls permeated the air. I breathed deeply and sighed. All around me were the familiar chaotic sights of a palace kitchen: panicking sous-chefs, kitchen-boys filching bits from the counters, and the ubiquitous domineering head cook. A gigantic pot of something that looked like porridge and smelled like cinnamon was simmering over the hearth-fire. Next to it stood Halathain, giving out the day's assignments to a dozen or so people who were all nibbling at various bits of breakfast and nodding absently in reaction to his orders. Calla and I walked over to join them.

"Ah, our newest member has arrived. Everyone, this is Ria. I believe most of you remember Calla?" Halathain paused for excited welcomes and squeals of recognition as Calla was greeted by old acquaintances. I received a mixture of stares and genuinely pleasant smiles. "Now, then, Ria. I'll give you a brief overview of what to expect here."

Halathain proceeded to explain that though I was a servant, I was a seamstress and therefore had a higher status in the household than, say, a chambermaid. Breakfast would be provided every morning in the kitchen, and then Halathain would relate any changes in schedule, special announcements, or extra tasks that needed to be done. I would receive my room and board in return for doing the mending of those that resided in the Hall and couldn't- or didn't want to- do it themselves. Calla would be helping me with that as well as fulfilling her duties as Chief Housekeeper (a position that, I could tell, tickled her to no end. She positively preened when Halathain mentioned it.). In addition, I would receive bonuses for according to the quality and prompt completion of any special requests made by the King. All others would pay me standard fees for clothing they ordered. I was free to take on other work in my spare time, so long as I completed my required sewing first. I also learned that servants were considered members of the Household and were allowed to eat in the Hall with the King's Guard, members of counsel, and all residents of Meduseld if they so choose. The lesser cooks and the servers rotated their schedules so as to allow for this.

By that time, most of the others had left to begin their day. I was escorted back to my room, where a large heap of torn clothing had been deposited, and presented with the basket of sewing essentials that the previous seamstress had left behind.

"Goodness, Calla! Will there always be this much mending? I'll never get anything else done!"

"No, I suspect not. Most of the men have wives to do their sewing, and it's been a few weeks since the last girl left, so things have piled up. I'm off to oversee dinner and make sure the maids aren't slacking off. I'll come back and check on you this afternoon…and force you to sit and listen to my wedding plans!" Calla bustled out, grinning gleefully, and I settled down to stitch.

The basket was well equipped with the basics- needles, plain linen thread, shears- but lacked the necessities for any artistic work. Still, at the moment I was only patching up ripped breeches, for the most part, and replacing buttons, so it would most likely do. The morning crept by and the sun rose higher and higher, filling my room with bright light that did not help keep my thoughts from wandering back to the distracting King of Rohan. Just as I was about to put away the last shirt that was no longer missing a button, Calla stuck her head in the door and grinned positively evilly. I was instantly on my guard.

"What is it, Calla?" I asked cautiously. She giggled, which surprised me. Somehow Calla did not seem the type for giggling.

"Halathain and I have decided that Eomer King will need a new tunic and fine robe for the feast in ten days. Can you complete one by then?"

"What sort of robe? Simple, every-day or grand and completely opulent?"

"The grander the better. There are going to be several foreigners visiting, all of whom will need to be impressed."

I nodded absently. Already images were flitting through my mind of the perfect outfit. It would showcase both the traditional styles of the Rohirrim and the current lean toward Elvish clothing, and if done right, would add a certain element of sophistication to the King. Not to mention he would look beyond handsome in it. But could I finish it in ten days?

"Good!" Calla said. "Be in the King's study in fifteen minutes to get his measurements." She ducked out of the room as suddenly as she had entered it.

Measurements?

Measurements.

Meaning I had to wrap my knotted length of string around various parts of the King of Rohan's anatomy while he rattled off answers to questions all sorts of people kept walking into the room to ask him. He wouldn't hold still, either. Finally there was a lull in the visitors, and Eomer appeared to notice me for the first time.

"Aren't you finished yet?"

Eowyn was right about his manners. "I would have been, if you hadn't been wiggling the whole time. Now please hold still." Desperately trying to ignore the pulse that was pounding rapidly throughout my body, I pulled my cord around Eomer's waist and noted its length. He raised his eyebrows.

"Where do you hail from, girl? Ria, isn't it? Your accent is not Rohirric."

"Extend your arms." I measured them as I answered. "From a southern city of Gondor."

"What brings you so far from home?"

Now for his chest. Impressive. I debated what to tell him and settled on the truth. "My father is arranging a suitable marriage for me, but I decided I wanted to have a bit of an adventure, first. I will return home eventually."

"Ah, so I will not have the pleasure of being ordered around by you permanently?" He crossed his arms and contemplated me as I coiled my yarn.

"Have I been ordering you? I suppose I should apologize, shouldn't I. You are a king, after all, and I am a mere seamstress." There was a glint in his eyes that gave up his amusement.

"Somehow I do not think you are a mere seamstress."

My hands froze and I stared at the ground. What did he mean? Fear gripped me for a moment. "What do you mean by that?"

"No seamstress would have marched into a grand Hall and demanded employment the way you did. Nor would any seamstress have stood with enough pride dripping off her to rival a queen. No woman raised to be a servant would have ordered the King of Rohan to hold still. Nay, there is more to you than that. What is it?" Eomer's eyes found mine and once again their depths paralyzed me. He took a step towards me and I felt myself drawn to lean forward. I opened my mouth to speak, though I know not what I would have said if Halathain hadn't cleared his throat in the doorway.

"Sir? My Lord, the Guard is ready to move out."

Eomer's eyes stayed on me as he told Halathain that he would be outside in a moment. When the steward left, he spoke.

"Keep your secret for now. I will puzzle it out later, have no doubt." He winked at me and left. Winked! At me!

Suddenly the study seemed uncomfortably warm. I fled to the stables.