A/N—On to the party. Thanks again to Laureate for pulling me out of the past, past tense hell I was so foolishly stuck in!!! Those of you confused should reread chapters 3 and 5 (with much greater ease, I might add).

Imrahil met Eomer before the young king reached Lothiriel's chamber door. "Eomer, a word please," said the prince.

"Of course, Lord Imrahil," Eomer said, and he stopped in his tracks.

"Eomer, you've been calling me 'Lord Imrahil' since you proposed to Lothiriel, and it is starting to make me feel old and stodgy," Imrahil said with a pained look. "Please, just go back to calling me Imrahil. I will still let you wed my daughter."

Eomer chuckled quietly at his friend and soon to be father-in-law, and he said, "As you wish, Imrahil." He thought how funny and characteristic it was that both father and daughter preferred their formal titles ignored in the face of friendship. "What did you wish to speak about?" Eomer asked in the hopes of speeding up the discussion so he could get to his princess all the faster.

"I know you are on your way to escort Lothiriel to the celebration, but I was hoping you wouldn't mind if I assumed that honor just for tonight," Imrahil said, and he smiled gently at the blond king. "It may be the last time I can do so before I deliver her to you in Edoras permanently."

"I'm sure she would like nothing better, Lord—I mean Imrahil," Eomer said with a broad grin.

Imrahil grasped arms with Eomer and said, "Thank you, my boy. One day, when you have a grown daughter of your own, I know you will understand my request fully. Though perhaps you do already." The prince released Eomer's arm and regarded him with a shrewd eye. "I saw your face at the wedding of your sister to my nephew."

"Indeed," Eomer said, "saying goodbye to one dear to your heart is never easy." The king took a step closer to Imrahil, drew himself up to his full height, placed a hand on the older man's shoulder, and said, "If it means your heart is eased but a little, then know that I will never keep your daughter from you. You are welcome in the halls of Edoras anytime you wish, as I would hope the King and Queen of Rohan will be welcome at Dol Amroth."

A little taken aback by the king's sincere words, Imrahil searched for a response. After a few silent moments he said, "You are a good man, Eomer. I see it in the respect of your riders, the loyalty of your people, and in the love my daughter feels for you. I did not know your father, but I knew Théoden. I have no doubts he would be very proud of the choices you have made as king."

"Thank you." Eomer said simply.

They nodded and smiled at each other, and then they parted wordlessly, Imrahil for Lothiriel's chambers, and Eomer for the great banquet hall of Minas Tirith. Imrahil, still reflecting upon the words he had shared with Eomer, stopped before the king was out of earshot. He turned, called to Eomer, and after the king moved to face the prince once more, Imrahil said, "My daughter...she is an old soul in a new body. She is her mother. And I know you will cherish that as much as I have all her life."

"Yes." Eomer said, understanding the prince's full meaning. Imrahil smiled, his eyes slightly sad, and then he departed again to meet his daughter.

Eomer watched him go and then headed toward the hall where the celebration was about to begin. His thoughts were on Imrahil's parting words and the woman that was Lothiriel's mother, Imrahil's beloved wife, Luinardaiel. He knew from his talks with Lothiriel that she had died when Lothiriel was fifteen, some six ago. She was taken by a plague that had swept the city of Dol Amroth, brought to its shores by invading Corsairs commanded by Sauron.

But the princess, and Imrahil for that matter, rarely talked about the bad times in regard to the lady. They more often recalled stories revolving around her adventurous spirit and wicked sense of humor. Eomer believed they felt it did Luinardaiel no honor to dwell on the sad time that surrounded her death, when it was small and trivial in comparison to the truly grand way in which she lived her life. If Lothiriel was in fact her mother in spirit, Eomer felt lucky in having her as his queen. He planned on telling Lothiriel that very fact when he saw her that evening at the celebration.

~

Lothiriel waited anxiously in her chambers for Eomer to arrive and escort her to the beginning of the harvest celebration. The sun had set moments ago, and her sitting room and bedchamber were washed in violet twilight. Queen Arwen's maid, who had helped Lothiriel ready herself for the evening's events, had finished her work and excused herself a half hour earlier; the princess was left alone with her thoughts and an uneasy stomach.

She wasn't sure why she was so nervous...well that wasn't entirely true, she corrected herself. She knew exactly why she was nervous...would he find her beautiful in his gift, the lovely green dress she wore; would he want to kiss her, and if so how would he caress her? She suddenly blushed a bright shade of red at where her thoughts had trailed.

She looked at herself in the mirror next to her dressing table for what seemed the fiftieth time, and she smoothed the front of the velvet dress with her hands. Dora, the lady-in-waiting, had commented on how regal and queenly she looked in the dress, but she waited for another's opinion, the most important opinion to her, before she would believe it herself. Normally, Lothiriel would find this type of behavior intolerable. She wasn't raised to base her beauty and self-worth on the opinion of any man, but was instead educated as her brothers had been, and encouraged to openly express herself. As a Princess of Dol Amroth, she considered herself any nobleman's equal, and that could've been where her need of Eomer's approval was rooted.

He was a king and outranked even her father in nobility. Though she loved him more as a man than king of her future land, she still sought to please him and be worthy of the title Queen of Rohan. She fussed with her hair a final time before hearing a distinctive rap on her chamber door. She knew before opening the door that it was her father, and she wondered why he had come to call on her and wasn't already at the celebration.

"Father," Lothiriel said as she opened her door, "what are you doing here?" She stood to the side so Imrahil could enter, and she closed the door behind him.

Ignoring her question, Imrahil stood and admired his daughter for a moment and said, "Lothiriel, you are beautiful." His voice was thick with emotion; his face etched with deep love. He noted the modest look Lothiriel assumed, and he took her hands gently in his. "I mean it," he continued, "I don't think I have ever seen you look so lovely."

"Thank you, Father." Lothiriel said quietly.

"The color of Rohan suits you, but of that I had no doubts. You have been blessed with good fortune concerning all things originating from that land." Imrahil said. "First and foremost, your young king. I know it was he you were expecting to call upon you tonight, but I have exercised my right as a father to escort you to the celebration this evening. I hope you don't mind." He smiled at her softly and squeezed her hands, which he still held in his own.

"Of course I don't mind!" Lothiriel said, and she grabbed her father in a warm embrace. But before Imrahil had a chance to close his arms around her fully, she pulled away and looked at him, her eyes deathly serious. "Are you sure I look acceptable? Do you think Eomer will approve?"

"Acceptable?" Imrahil said, his voice heavy with disbelief. "Child, you will rival the queen herself tonight looking the way you do. And as for Eomer, I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't try to put you over his shoulder and carry you to the nearest clergyman to make you his queen this very night."

"Father!" Lothiriel said as she covered her mouth in surprise at Imrahil's statement.

"Well, I wouldn't put it past him," Imrahil said with mock disdain. "The man is rather impulsive." He stared at Lothiriel hoping his words put her at ease a little, and he was pleased to hear her stifled giggles. Grandly offering his arm to her, he said, "Now that we both agree you look ravishing, let us hurry to the celebration. We should arrive before Elessar and Arwen to show our proper respect."

Still laughing, Lothiriel accepted her father's arm, and she let him lead her out into the corridor that lay before her chambers. The passage was empty and quiet except for the murmur of noise coming from the curved streets of Minas Tirith below the palace. The residents of the city were busy preparing for the next full day's events of the harvest celebration, and while the noblemen and women dined with the King and Queen of Gondor tonight, the common people would have festive gatherings with family and friends in their own homes this evening.

Imrahil and Lothiriel walked in silence to the banquet hall. The prince stole a few glances at his daughter, whose focus never strayed from ahead of them. As they approached a corner just before the entrance of the banquet hall, Lothiriel grasped Imrahil's arm tightly and stopped abruptly. He halted next to her and cast a concerned look her way. Wordlessly, she smoothed the front and straightened the train and cape of her dress, touched the back of her elegantly done up hair, and inhaled deeply. Assured that everything was in place as it should be, Lothiriel directed a quick, excited smile at her father, and she assumed her most regal stature.

Smiling broadly, Imrahil resumed escorting Lothiriel around the corner and into the banquet hall. The entrance to the hall was a large arched doorway, as were most of the entrances in the palace, and sat above a wide set of white marble stairs. Below, the banquet hall's floor was also white marble, but with a huge, centered inset of black marble patterned like a many-pronged star. Long dining tables that were covered in cream-colored linen, and festooned with large arrangements of flowers and greenery, set around the room framing the dance floor. Flaming torches, attached to several floor-to-ceiling marble columns, lit the hall with a romantic, golden light.

Lothiriel quickly scanned the crowd of people already assembled in the hall for a glimpse of Eomer. She found him standing with Eowyn and Faramir next to the largest table in the hall; the table meant for the King and Queen of Gondor and their most honored guests. The three stopped their conversation when Eowyn spotted Imrahil and Lothiriel at the top of the hall's entranceway steps; she laid a gentle hand on Eomer's arm, and with a soft smile she directed his attention to his betrothed.

Imrahil led Lothiriel down the steps and through the center of the hall. They received scattered greetings from the groups of Gondor's noblemen and ladies of the court, who were chatting quietly with each other.

But it was the Riders of Rohan and ladies of Edoras' court present in the hall that stopped all conversation and acknowledged the pair with formal bows and curtsies. Imrahil, speaking in a voice only Lothiriel could hear, said, "They regard you with honor, even though you are not yet their queen. Do not doubt your aptness for Eomer on this evening or, for that matter, by his side in Edoras, my daughter." His voice was filled with pride and dignity.

A sudden surge of confidence rushed through Lothiriel from her father's words. She nodded respectfully at each of the Rohirrim who bowed or curtsied before her; most had come to Minas Tirith for Eowyn's wedding a few months earlier and had decided to stay until their king returned to Rohan.

Lothiriel wasn't sure, until this moment, how the members of Edoras' court would react to her marriage to their king. She knew his advisors had encouraged Eomer's desire to court her for the obvious reason that their union would greatly strengthen the ties between Rohan and Gondor. Her father's own advisors still hadn't stopped salivating over the increased potential for trade with Rohan, a country rich with livestock and grains. Advisors always loved marriages that served as political bonds with other kingdoms. But as for the members of court and the common people of Rohan, Lothiriel had a deep-seated concern.

After her engagement to Eomer was made public, and word was sent back to Rohan of the king's return to Edoras in the fall for his marriage to a Gondorian princess, Lothiriel suffered many a withering glance from the unwed ladies of Edoras' court that were still present in Minas Tirith. At first she had shrugged off the women's disapproving looks as simple jealousy. Eomer was an extremely attractive man, after all. And he was a king as well. But the thought that perhaps they disapproved of her, not because she had won Eomer's affections, but because of her Gondorian heritage, slowly crept into Lothiriel's mind.

She never spoke to Eomer of her doubts; instead she hid them and tried to convince herself that she would make it a priority to win over the people of Rohan, as she had their king. Now, standing in front of several of Rohan's most important noble's, and looking rather stately in the color of her future realm, she felt for the first time that she might have a chance at succeeding with her secret goal.

Imrahil and Lothiriel finally made their way past the other guests, to the back of the banquet hall, where Eomer, Faramir and Eowyn were standing. Lothiriel watched Eomer closely as she and her father approached; he stared intently at her, but Eomer's expression was one she had never seen before and was unreadable. They stopped and Lothiriel stood before Eomer, never taking her eyes from his. Faramir greeted her first and said, "Cousin, you look absolutely radiant."

Still keeping her eyes on Eomer, Lothiriel said, "Thank you, Faramir." Her voice had a slightly absent tone.

Imrahil, Faramir and Eowyn were silent as Eomer stepped forward, very close to Lothiriel; he regarded her as if she were the only person in the room. She raised her chin slightly, and she held a serene look on her face as she stared closely at the king. Without saying a word, and with no concern for those present, Eomer placed a hand gently at the nape of Lothiriel's neck and kissed her rather passionately, considering the company that surrounded them. Eowyn, openly watching the couple embrace in front of her, grinned impishly. Faramir bowed his head, and he covered a small smile discretely with his hand, while Imrahil continued to watch the whole event unfold until he could take it no longer. The prince coughed loudly and purposefully at the pair.

Paying no heed to the prince's uncomfortable noises, Eomer and Lothiriel finally separated from their kiss. Their faces still very close, they smiled brightly at each other. "Greetings, Princess," Eomer said quietly.

"Greetings, my King," Lothiriel replied.

"Welcome to the party," Eomer said. "It can begin now that you are here, for you are so exquisite this evening the party must be in your honor."

Lothiriel smiled devilishly and said, "Alas, I am but a simple guest at this grand function. I thank you for your generous compliment though, my Lord. And might I add, you look very handsome this evening, as well."

Faramir groaned and said, "Are you two going to be like this all night?" Eowyn jabbed him sharply in the ribs and shot him a cross look.

"No," Eomer said, "I think we are done for awhile, at least." He grinned at Lothiriel and kissed her hand.

"Oh, don't mind these two," Eowyn said to the couple as she stepped forward, past Faramir and Imrahil, and hugged Lothiriel. "I think it is wonderful how affectionate you are, Eomer. And it is good for the nobles of Rohan to see you so happy with Lothiriel. It will make her work easier when she's in Edoras."

Eomer nodded at Eowyn and was about to thank her when he was interrupted by the sharp sounds of trumpets; they announced the arrival of Elessar and Arwen. All turned to see the king and queen at the entrance of the hall. Elessar looked splendid in a black velvet tunic, embroidered with the tree of Gondor in silver thread; Arwen, looking beautiful as always, wore a crimson silk dress with long flowing sleeves and a belt woven from golden fibers. They descended the marble steps leading to the floor of the hall, and they nodded their greetings to those that bowed before them.

Eomer, Lothiriel and Imrahil stood in front of their places at the royal table, to the left of Queen Arwen's chair. Faramir escorted Eowyn to stand before their places, to the right of Elessar's seat. The group bowed with respect as Elessar and Arwen approached the table, and then all sat after Elessar held Arwen's chair for her, and both were seated. Quickly, servants carried platters of food and drink out to the many tables in the hall.

All the guests waited to indulge in the bounty before them, for it was customary for Elessar to speak before the start of a celebration. The king waited till all the servants were done, and then he lifted his goblet and rose from his chair; his guests fell silent and watched the king attentively. He paused and looked around the hall at those who were gathered before him and spoke:

"We are here to celebrate another year of peace and prosperity;
another year out of the shadow that so plagued this land and its
people. It has been our way to remember those who gave their lives in
the pursuit of good, not by telling tales of the sorrow of their
deaths, but by remembering their life. We remember what made them
special and dear to us; we remember that which gave them the strength
to fight for what is right and just. And I say to you now, this way
is a fine way to celebrate our victory over evil.

For it is in the celebration of life, that we continue to defeat
darkness, despair and hopelessness. It is in the tales of our heroes
that our children will learn courage, fortitude, and all that has been
sacrificed for their future, and the future of their own children.
And they will learn how to savor life, live life to its fullest, and,
for the first time in many years, broaden their horizons.

I ask you now, Knights and Ladies of Gondor, brothers and sisters of
Rohan, look around you. Here tonight is the proof of our triumph.
Friendships and unions forged, not out of desperation and fear, but
through peace...and love."

During the last line of his speech, the king glanced first at Faramir and Eowyn and then at Eomer and Lothiriel. "Raise your spirits," Elessar continued, "and pay tribute to our heroes, and the lessons we may learn from them." Prompting all to drink from their wine goblets in tribute, the king sat back down, and the celebration began with the clinking of goblets and the sound of happy voices throughout the hall.

A/N—More party, and hopefully Gimli and Legolas, when we return.