Author's Obligatory Note: Thank you for all the suggestions! I appreciate them. Just wait till you see what I have planned…. Evil laughter. Actually, this is the first story where I think I might continue on beyond the 'declaration of love' (which you knew was coming anyway so I'm not spoiling anything for you, kinda like you know, if you've read The Appendices, that they're going to get married) to the wedding and maybe even after. Heh Heh Heh…I'm also thinking about changing the secondary category from 'Humor' to 'Action/Adventure'. I write with humor in mind, but it never really comes out. ANYWAY! Thanks for the reviews, everybody! It's the same five or six people, but that's OK. Popularity is overrated ;-)

Oh, and this may be my last update for a week or so. I'm off to Girls State (a.k.a. political boot camp) and I won't get back till late on the 11th.

"What did you say?"

Eomer looked at me strangely. "I said there was a family of Haradrim ambassadors coming with the princes of Dol Amroth to see Rohan. Why does that upset you?"

"Upset? Me? No, not at all. Why would I be upset?"

"Because your face is completely white, that's why."

I barely heard him. "Ten days…" I muttered. "Why did it have to be so soon?"

"Ria? What's wrong?" The gentle tone of Eomer's voice startled me back to normal. I looked over to see him staring at me with concern and worry in his eyes. Could it be that beneath the rough, rude exterior was a heart of gold?

"It's just…I can't tell you." Somehow my mouth would not let me lie to him, but neither could I tell him the truth. Eomer paused for a moment, then spoke softly.

"You said you hailed from a city in the South…are you in some kind of trouble that the nobility of Dol Amroth or Harad would recognize you? Would they punish you or send you home?"

I was silent. Eomer waited for a reply, then sighed.

"Very well. Keep your secret for another day." With that, he rode away from me.

The remainder of the ride passed all too swiftly, and we were soon dismounting outside the royal stables. It was dusk; a magnificent red sunset could be seen to the west. After returning my mare to Easa, I discovered that her name was Gwen, and that she was the second best of all the King's horses.

"She'd beat Wingfoot in a short race, no doubt about it. But there's only one horse in this world that could run longer than the King's own meara, and that's Shadowfax, the stallion that carries Gandalf the wizard."

I was puzzled. "Wingfoot? Why would the King name his horse something in the Common Tongue?"

Easa chuckled. "There's a story behind that, lass. See, three or four years ago, when Eomer was still Third Marshall, he came across a strange sight while on patrol. An Elf, a Man, and a Dwarf, all were racing across the plains to hunt a band or orcs. When the King learned how many leagues the man had run in three days, he was so amazed that he named him 'Wingfoot'. Later turned out that the man was Elessar of Gondor himself, only he weren't king yet, either. So when Eomer King acquired his beautiful steed there, and saw how much endurance and speed he had, he laughed and called the horse Wingfoot, too. Much to the amusement of the King of Gondor, I'm told."

I frowned. "The King asked me where I had gotten the horse, but did not tell me any of this when I said I didn't know anything about her."

"'Tis not in our King's nature to offer more information about himself or anything than anyone needs to know to get by."

"So I've noticed." I grumbled. Eomer still hadn't given me adequate information about his tunic/robe/who-knew-what for the banquet. At this point, he was going to have to take what I was going to give him. Which, if I managed to pull off what I was planning, would be magnificent.

After I left the stables, I sought out Jeb in the soldiers' quarters. As a newly enlisted Rider, he was stationed in the very last row of the barracks that were provided for unmarried men who did not wish to stay in their parents' homes. Unfortunately for me, this meant I had to walk through a hundred yards' worth of whistling, jeering soldiers in order to visit him. I held my head high and ignored all the comments and offers I received, very glad that my hair was still completely covered.

I pulled Jeb away from the card game he was losing to speak with him.

"Jeb! I wonder if you could do something for me."

"Nice to see you, too, Ria." He glanced longingly at the poker table, sighed and turned back to me. "What is it that you need?"

"Teach me to fight."

Jeb blinked. Twice. Then he started laughing. "Ria, why on earth do you want to know how to fight? You probably have bodyg—"

"Jeb!"

"Oh, uh…sorry Ria."

"I need to learn how to fight because your King won't let me leave the city until I can defend myself. And," I glared at no one in particular, "I owe Eomer a very painful slap across the face."

Jeb gaped. "You're going to attack the King? Good luck with that."

"You make it sound like I want to kill the man, which I don't. He was rude to me, that's all. Very rude."

"Mm-hmm." Jeb looked skeptical. "Well, either way, you won't have much success unless you learn from the best, and that means Eomer King himself. He holds practices with the younger soldiers each afternoon for a few hours to help train us. If you come to those for awhile, and show a bit of talent, you might be able to slip past his guard enough to slap him once."

"Twice."

"Whatever."

"All right. I'll be there."

As I helped serve dinner in the Hall that night, I was treated to the disgusting sight of a buxom blonde woman throwing herself at the King the entire evening. She was pretty, in a common sort of way, and I learned through Calla that she had been Eomer's mistress until recently, when they had parted ways, and now she wanted back into his favor.

"Look at that! It's disgraceful!" I hissed as Calla and I carried in platters of fresh bread. The woman, Wythoe, was casually stroking Eomer's knee. No, make that thigh. Rather high up on his thigh, I might add.

"Is that a hint of jealousy I detect, Lady?" Calla teased.

I blushed. "Certainly not. And I told you not to call me that, Calla!"

"Is too."

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Why would I be jealous of a cheap blonde tramp?" I eyed Wythoe as Eomer casually lifted her hand from his leg and firmly placed it on the table, then went back to his conversation with someone else.

"Because she's sitting next to the King, getting his attention, and you're not."

"Nonsense. I am not here to catch Eomer's eye, I am here to have an adventure."

Calla was amused by my denials. "Oh, and falling in love is not?"

I set my bread down on a table and picked up an empty soup tureen. "I've hardly in love, Calla. For goodness' sake, I hardly know the man!"

"So you admit you like him, then?"

Too late, I realized what I had implied. "That's not what I meant at all and you know it."

"Mmm. Here." She grabbed the tureen from my hands and pushed me towards the empty seat two places down from Eomer. "I can finish up. You sit and eat."

"Calla!" She ignored me and left. Cursing her under my breath, I walked over to the table and sat. Eomer was at the head of the table. To his left was Wythoe, the hussy, and to his right sat his distant cousin and Third Marshall, Galliwine. I was next to Galliwine, and across from me was another, younger soldier. I quietly served myself a trencher of stew, but Galliwine interrupted me before I could eat.

"Ah! You, girl. I hear you come from the South of Gondor. Do you know anything of our impending visitors from Harad?"

Perfect. "Only a little, my lord." Stalling for time, I took a bite of my dinner and chewed it slowly. But Galliwine was impatient.

"What can you tell us of them?" Everyone was staring at me. I frantically looked around the table for a way out, finally coming to rest on Eomer's interested face. It was familiar, at least. I spoke hesitantly.

"The ambassador, Kutheia, is nothing extraordinary, but his father stands behind him and uses him to bargain Harad's position on matters of trade. If you wish for peace, they say it is better to make an impression of security and power to the father than to the son. Kutheia is affianced to the princess of Dol Amroth." My frown of confusion was not at all forced. "Frankly, it shocks me that the family would make a trip here so soon before the wedding."

Eomer spoke up. "You have not heard, then, that the princess ran away to avoid her fateful nuptials to the ambassador?"

Once again, I faked shock at the news. "Surely a princess would not run away. She must have been kidnapped, for Kutheia is not that bad."

Eomer's eyes held me prisoner once more. "Perhaps. Or perhaps she just wanted to have a bit of an adventure before her suitable marriage." Our eyes held across the table. I was lost in dark brown pools.

Wythoe's tittering laugh broke the spell. "The little girl is right. What woman wouldn't want to be married to a rich ambassador?"

Little girl? "Not all women are that shallow." I said with a pointed glance at her scandalously low-cut dress. Wythoe reddened. Eomer laughed. I smiled to myself.

The man across from me spoke up. "This princess of Dol Amroth…if I am not mistaken, were you not at one time to marry her yourself, sire?"

"Imrahil was pushing for an arranged marriage, but I have never been keen on the idea of saddling myself with a boring princess. I prefer my women with more spirit than is likely to be fostered in an ivory tower." Eomer grinned. "However, if she really did have the nerve to run away, perhaps I should have accepted the offer." He winked at me, and I was confused with the contrary emotions it let loose within me. Pleasure at his attention, and anger at his low opinion of princesses.

"No doubt she'd simply run away from you, too, my lord." I snapped before I considered the consequences. The table hushed, and I realized that I had just insulted the country's King in his own Hall.

Eomer saved me by laughing. "No doubt." The conversation turned to horses, then, and I was safe.

For the time being.