I apologise for not giving Lothíriel's horse a name earlier. Such a fine animal deserved more. But oh well, he has a name now. Girly, but still a nice name.

Chapter 15 : Danger

Lothíriel did not turn up for dinner. Éomer sat in silence, lost in his thoughts. He ran through in his mind everything that Lothíriel had said to him, word by word, over and over again. He couldn't believe how much a fool he had been, to have spent so much time with Lothíriel, and to have remained blind to all her feelings. Unwittingly, he had hurt her, and that had always been the last thing that he had ever wanted to do. It was his fault, and she had every right to be angry with him. He would first allow her time to cool down, perhaps even to cry all her tears (the very thought of having made Lothíriel cry wrenched his heart), and after dinner he would go to her room to apologise.

But other than apologies, what else can I offer her? Do I love her like she hopes? He frowned down at his bowl, unable to find the answer. He had always thought that he loved her as a sister, but seeing her cry today brought a new feeling stirring in him, something he had never felt, something he had never known, not even when he had been comforting Éowyn in their childhood. One thing he knew: he could not, would not, lead Lothíriel on if he was unclear about how he truly felt about her. I will not allow myself to ever hurt her again.

To Éomer, dinner went by in a blur. After dinner, everyone went back to their rooms, Isindil and the guards of Dol Amroth to get their rest for the long journey ahead the next day, but Éomer lingered in the halls, pondering over what to say to Lothíriel. He wanted to have everything thought out before he saw her face. He could not afford to say anything wrong, or put anything the wrong way, or he could break her heart. If he hadn't done so already.

"My lord Éomer?"

He whirled round once Lothíriel's voice reached his ears, but only saw that in his thoughts, he had mistaken Freda's voice for Lothíriel's. "Yes, Freda?" he asked, a little wearied.

"I noticed that the Lady Lothíriel was a little… displeased… over my presence today, and I thought that I would come to apologise to her before she left tomorrow," Freda said meekly, her head bowed.

Éomer cleared his throat awkwardly. "Ah… Lothíriel did not come to dinner tonight. Perhaps she is getting her rest for tomorrow's long journey. Why don't you come bid her goodbye tomorrow morning?" He turned back to his thoughts, trying to find the best ways to phrase his words. Oh Valar, this must be the most difficult thing I've ever had to do!

"My lord?"

He jumped when he realised that Freda was right in front of him now. "Yes, Freda?"

She looked up at him through her eyelashes. "I have to admit, my lord, that I told a lie just now. I did not come to apologise to Lady Lothíriel… I came to see you."

Éomer took a step back. Oh Valar, did you have to pour everything on my head all at once? "Excuse me?"

Freda took a step forward, a blush coming to her cheeks. "I… I kissed you earlier today, and I simply must confess. I had been yearning, longing, to do that for a great many days, and now that I have done so, I admit that I would like to do so again." She smiled shyly at him. "You have been kind to me, my lord, and I…"

"Freda." Éomer cut her off as gently as he could, taking her by the shoulders. "I am flattered, I most definitely am, that you think me worthy of your affections."

A smile broke across Freda's face, and if not for Éomer's hands on her shoulders, she would have come even closer. "Oh, my lord…"

Éomer cut her off again. "However," he began firmly, "though you offer me your love freely, I simply cannot accept it. I am very sorry, but I simply cannot. Freda, you have been a wonderful companion, but I see you as nothing more as a friend, do you understand?" He released her, and took a step back again. "I'm very sorry, Freda, but… perhaps you should leave now?"

Freda stared at him for a moment, then took a deep breath, nodded, and left the hall.

Éomer stared after her for a while, feeling a little guilty for having to have rejected her so firmly, but he knew that he had done the right thing. Freda was a good friend, but she could not possibly make him happy.

Giving up on his confusing thoughts, he made his way to Lothíriel's room, with little heed to anything else. He knocked on her door. "Lothíriel? Lothíriel? It's me, Éomer."

There was no answer, and so he knocked again. "Lothíriel? Please, would you open the door? I want to apologise."

Still no answer. Éomer was about to knock again when Isindil opened his door, and beckoned him away from Lothíriel's door. "Perhaps we could leave her one night to cool down. She wouldn't answer when I knocked either," he said.

"You know of what happened?" Éomer asked, a little surprised. He thought that no one knew.

"I saw the two of you at the entrance of the hall today, from some distance away. I could just guess what it was all about," Isindil said, letting Éomer into his room. "It can't possibly be very easy for the princess. She is young still. Perhaps one night would be sufficient."

Éomer put his head in his hands. "You know how she feels, then?"

Isindil nodded. "I spoke with her a week ago about it. She had wanted to leave then, and I agreed, but asked for a week. I was hoping that in this week something would happen, but obviously nothing very good has, has it? And so perhaps it would be for the best if we left tomorrow anyway."

"I'm so sorry."

Isindil laughed. "Forgive me for speaking so to the King of Rohan, my lord, but you are young as well! There is nothing to be sorry for; love isn't something that can be controlled. It is no one's fault, and I suppose the princess must learn how to deal with rejection, since it's no uncommon thing."

"I didn't reject her," Éomer mumbled.

"Pardon, sir?"

"I didn't reject her," Éomer repeated. "I just stood there, like I was made of wood."

Isindil coughed. "Well then, that makes some difference, doesn't it? And were you planning to reject her after you apologised?"

"I didn't think about that," Éomer admitted. "The truth is, I had absolutely no idea what to say to her. I… I… ah… I just rejected Freda, though."

Isindil raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Well I suppose that would have pleased Lothíriel a little. But not much, if you weren't going to offer her what she hopes for."

Éomer made a vexed sound. "I have absolutely no idea what I was going to offer her. What I can offer her. I don't want to risk hurting her again."

"Risks are necessary most of the time," Isindil said quietly. Then he stood up. "But since we're going to leave the princess a night of quiet, you have one night to mull over it, don't you?"

Éomer stood up as well, and nodded. "Yes, yes I suppose I do. One long sleepless night."

The moon provided a little light, but not very much, and Lothíriel knew that soon she would have to stop for the night, at least to give Elenion a little rest. They had covered a good distance already, Elenion deserved to rest. But where could they stop? There was nothing but the rolling plains in all directions.

Finally, Lothíriel sighed and pulled on her horse's reins. Well, I suppose the middle of nowhere is as good as place as any. She dismounted and pulled out the blanket. Laying it on the ground, she sat down on it, pulling her cloak tight against her for warmth. What had not expected, though, was for Elenion to get down on the ground next to her. She smiled and rested her head on his back. "You're a good friend, Elenion," she said to the stallion. "A very good friend."

She slept little, drifting in and out of consciousness in the cold night.

"Lothíriel? Don't you at least want some breakfast before we're on our way?" Isindil gave the door three sharp raps. "Lothíriel? Are you still asleep?" It was a silly question to ask, of course, but he was beginning to worry a little. After five minutes of deadly silence, he finally gave up on knocking and simply slammed the door open.

The room was beautifully clean and neat. The bed was made, and Lothíriel's clothes lay in her trunk. Her cloak was missing, however, and so was her leather bag. Panic began to wheedle its way into Isindil's heart as his mind registered the implications. She can't have…

"What…?"

Isindil turned to face Éomer, who was gaping at the empty room. Very calmly, he said, "My lord, I'm afraid that the princess of Dol Amroth has run away."

Éomer sat on Lothíriel's bed. "How… how could she?"

Isindil shook his head. "I suppose she wasn't even in her room last night."

Éothain came to the doorway. "You called for me, my lord?"

Éomer stood up. "Yes, I did. Check with all the guards on duty yesterday, if they've seen the Princess of Dol Amroth leave the city alone. Find out, if you can, when she left and which direction she went. Then report to me immediately."

Éothain, sensing his king's panic, nodded and left immediately to carry out his orders. Éomer began to pace about the room. How could he have been so stupid, not to suspect anything? Where could Lothíriel possibly be? She didn't know the land, she could get lost. It was winter, it was cold at night. Did she have enough blankets? How could she keep warm? Did she have enough food? What if she got lost? What if her horse broke a leg? Did she even take her horse? Well, she must have. But that didn't help much. How far could she have ridden? What if she was hurt, alone, out there, and no one was there to help?

He slammed his fist against the door, and stalked out of the room. "I must find her," he declared.

"Don't do anything too rash," Isindil warned, hurrying behind him.

"Yes, I know, but we must find her! She doesn't know these lands, it could well be dangerous for her."

Éomer pushed the doors of the hall opened, and had not walked far when Éothain hurried up to him, accompanied by a guard, Sircyn. "My lord, he saw the princess leaving last night."

"What did she say, Sircyn, what did she say?" Éomer asked urgently.

"I was on duty with Halen last night, and the princess came with her horse and she said that she was just going to go riding, as a new experience before she left Rohan, my lord. She said she brought some food with her. She rode out, but then we had to change shifts, and we didn't notice which way she went. We didn't think she would go far, anyway, so we weren't really worried." Sircyn frowned. "I'm sorry, my lord, we should have…"

"You did your duty, Sircyn," Éomer said. "It's no one's fault." Except mine. "We'll find her and bring her back safe and sound. Éothain, send out search parties." He turned to Isindil. "I am in no position to order you around, sir, but you may join any search party you wish."

Isindil nodded. "I will muster my own men, and we will join your searches." He turned and went on his way.

Riding just seemed to go on and on and on and on, and Lothíriel had given up looking around for anything else. But isn't this what you want? You're alone, at last. She nodded to herself resolutely. Yes, this was what she had been looking for. Solitude.

I wonder if any of the search parties are out yet. Isindil must be so worried, she thought, watching as the sun begun it's daily journey downwards once more. Just me and silence, she thought to herself. But then she heard something else. The sound of horses. And it was not Elenion.

Turning around, she saw three men riding, and gaining on her. Unsure of whether to flee, or to wait till she could see who they were, she made no move to urge Elenion to gallop faster. Who could they be?

If she had really known, she would never have hesitated.

An arrow shot out from one of the men, and before she knew what had really happened, Elenion was down, and she had to scramble out of the way from being pinned under the stallion. Everything seemed to go by in the flash, and suddenly there were hands seizing her. Screaming and kicking, she managed to pull her dagger out from her belt, and stabbed someone in the foot. Then it all went black.