Lothíriel stood there, completely taken aback. Éomer would never usually act in such a way. It was so uncharacteristic of him…

Lothíriel had never seen Éomer act so…unhinged was the closest word to come to mind. What had gone through his mind moments before he stormed out like a madman?

She sat slowly on the bed, frowning, hands in her lap. Her brows furrowed as she tried to think what she had said that might have upset him quite so much. Of course, no man wishes to be told he is expected to be unfaithful…but it is the truth, is it not? He is free to take any lover he wishes—it's not as if she has any right to stop him.

What was so wrong in letting him know he is free to do as he wished?

Her eyes widened. Perhaps that was it. Perhaps it was the implication that he needed her permission? Did she overstep some boundary by speaking of it so openly? By implying that by her consent alone he could be free to be with who he truly wanted to be with?

Her heart leapt into her throat. That must be it! She thought. After all, there was no reason for him to be upset. He was a noble man, yes. No doubt the frankness of her words offended him. But above all else, Éomer was a proud man…even more likely was that she somehow overstepped her position by telling him…he had her consent to take a lover.

That was it.

She stood up, slipping on her shoes, and stepping out of the door. She paused in the hallway when she saw Elfleda hurry up the steps. Elfleda froze for a moment, looking wide eyed at Lothíriel, glancing over her shoulder before walking the rest of the way.

"My Queen," Elfleda said, curtsying in a much more formal way than she usually did. "Did…did Éomer King just come from here?"

Lothíriel sighed. "Yes," she said, her voice quivering slightly. Then, quietly, she uttered, "It appears I've upset him."

Elfleda turned to look at Lothíriel with a surprised look. "I have never seen Éomer King look so… What in all of Middle Earth did you say that upset him so?"

"Well," Lothíriel said, fiddling with her hands slightly. "I told him about the child."

Elfleda stood there for a moment, not quite reacting to this. Before she tilted her head. "Why would that put him in such a tizzy?"

"Then…" Lothíriel closed her eyes. She didn't want to admit her mistake to Elfleda. Not until she fully apologized to Éomer. It wasn't right to bring someone else into an argument that only had to do with Éomer and Lothíriel themselves.

"I said some things that I do not think his lordship appreciated," Lothíriel said, sighing again. "I overstepped things a bit."

"What did you…" Elfleda trailed off. "You didn't…" she whispered, her eyes growing wide and her face paling slightly. "Did you?"

"If you're going to ask if I told his lordship he has done his duty by me, then yes, I did," Lothíriel said, feeling herself grow slightly testy by Elfleda's shock. Why was this so shocking to both Elfleda and Éomer? Was it so outlandish to have these conversations? "I have to apologize to his Lordship, however. I…I worded it wrong.'

"Is there a right way to word it?" Elfleda asked, her tone slightly harsher than Lothíriel appreciated.

Lothíriel turned to look at Elfleda in surprise. "Well, yes." Lothíriel said. "After all, I worded it like I was giving him permission."

Elfleda's mouth hung open at these words. "You told him to…"

"And that was wrong of me," Lothíriel admitted. "He of course doesn't need my permission. And indeed…He shouldn't need it."

She turned to go downstairs, but almost yelped in surprise when Elfleda grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

Surprised by this affront, and surprised that Elfleda, however gently, should become in any way physical, Lothíriel turned to gaze in surprise at the young woman.

Elfleda was giving her the most peculiar look. It was strange, and it was as if the young woman was suddenly seeing Lothíriel in a new light. "My lady…" Elfleda said, slowly. "Are you…alright?"

Lothíriel frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…" Elfleda let go of Lothíriel's wrist. "Are you…quite well?"

"I'm a little nauseated," Lothíriel admitted. "I daresay being pregnant is not easy, even this early—"

"No," Elfleda shook her head slowly. "I mean… is your mind quite well?"

"My mind—?" Lothíriel began, confused as to what Elfleda meant, before it dawned on her what Elfleda was hinting at. "You think I'm mad?" She asked, recoiling slightly from Elfleda.

Elfleda tilted her head again, seeming to try to gather her thoughts. "It would make sense," she said. "What sane woman would give her husband permission to be unfaithful? Who would refuse to see his love for her?"

"Éomer does not…" Lothíriel closed her eyes in frustration. "I am not mad, Elfleda," Lothíriel said. "Trust me. I am merely…being pragmatic."

"But you love Éomer King?" Elfleda said. "You truly love him?"

"Of course!" Lothíriel said, affronted that Elfleda would question such a thing. "I love him more than I have loved anyone in my life."

"Then why is it so hard for you to believe that he does in fact love you?" Elfleda said. "Why…" Elfleda paused. "Do you think our king is incapable of love?"

Lothíriel frowned. This was a strange thought. How could Elfleda have come to such a conclusion? Éomer? Incapable of love? It was laughable. There was no man in Middle Earth who felt as deeply and sincerely as Éomer did. Not capable of love…? Lothíriel would have laughed if Elfleda's serious tone did not concern her. "Of course my husband is capable of love," Lothíriel said, seriously. "I would not think such a thing as thinking he is not…why would you even question it?"

"No." Elfleda shook her head. "I asked if you think so. But then…if he is capable of love…why then can he not love you?"

Lothíriel paused at that. "Well," she began. She felt something inside her—her chest, somewhere deep inside, tighten, like small ghostly tendrils squeezing tight and causing her heart to start to race. "It's not possible," she said, smiling uncertainty.

"Why not?" Elfleda asked, sharply.

"Why," Lothíriel began again. "It's just…" she took a deep breath, feeling it difficult to breathe. "It's not…" she said. "It's just not…"

Lothíriel shook her head. "It…it cannot…no one…"

Elfleda peered at her closer. "No one…?" She prompted.

"No one…" Lothíriel said again, not sure what it was she was trying to say. She couldn't think clearly, her hands felt numb, and her legs weak. She felt as if she needed to flee, but she couldn't move. The room swayed—and Elfleda gave a small cry as Lothíriel found the ceiling of the hallway spin, and the next thing Lothíriel knew, she was laying in her and Éomer's bed, Elfleda and a few other servants surrounding her bed, gazing at her worriedly.

Lothíriel blinked a few times, unsure of what had happened. Her heart still felt strange, as if it were beating at a much too fast rhythm. When she turned her head, she felt as though the room began to spin slightly, which in turn made her nausea worse.

Though everyone looked worried, Elfleda looked pale, scared, with a look of shame on her face. "What…happened?" Lothíriel asked.

"You fainted, my Lady," one of the servant women said.

"How are you feeling now, my Queen?" An old man standing to her right asked.

Lothíriel turned to look at him. "Who are you?" She asked, bewildered, for she had not seen him among the servants yesterday.

"I am Rami, the head healer of Aldburg," the man said, bowing. "Miss Elfleda fetched me as soon as the servants had gotten you safely in bed."

"I fainted?" Lothíriel asked, confused. "How did I…" she faintly remembered the hallway spinning, and falling… "Am…" Lothíriel began.

"You did not hit the ground," the healer assured her. "Miss Elfleda caught you before anything too dangerous happened. The child should be fine."

Lothíriel breathed a deep sigh of relief, closing her eyes. "I don't understand," Lothíriel said, opening her eyes again. "How did… I felt fine this morning…"

Elfleda wrung her hands worriedly, biting her lip, looking as if she might cry.

Lothíriel began to get out from under the covers, but the healer put a gently, withered hand on her shoulder. "You should rest," he said. "Do not get out of bed for a few hours, or at least, until you are fully out of danger of fainting again."

Lothíriel nodded, slowly settling back against the cushions.

"We will leave you to rest," Rami said. "I will stay here, downstairs, for the rest of today in case I am needed."

"There's really no need to do so on my account," Lothíriel began.

Rami gave her a patient, amused smile. "You are our queen," he reminded her. "And you carry our future prince or princess. It is the least that I must do."

Lothíriel swallowed, before nodding. She watched as Rami ushered the other servants out of the room, before pausing to speak quietly to Elfleda, and then himself left the room.

Lothíriel watched them go with great confusion. Finally, she turned her head to look at Elfleda.

Elfleda bit her lip again, staring at her feet, before suddenly blurting out, "I'm sorry!"

Lothíriel blinked a few times at this outburst. "What are you sorry for?" She asked.

"For…for riling you up," Elfleda said, wringing her hands again. "I shouldn't have pushed you like that…I should have let it go…"

She stepped forward, sitting beside Lothíriel on the bed. She held Lothíriel's hands with her own. "I'm so sorry, my lady! I should have realized you were not feeling well…with being with child and all…"

Lothíriel wasn't sure what to do with all this. "I am fine," Lothíriel said, finally. "I assure you. I am not…I am not unwell. I don't know what happened," she added, confused. "How did I suddenly feel so…I felt so…"

"Rami said it was some sort of fit," Elfleda said, "When I described it to him. You were shaking, my lady. It was as if you…"

Lothíriel turned to look at Elfleda in confusion. "It was as if I…?"

"A long time ago, there was a boy in Edoras who looked once like you did," Elfleda sniffled. Shaking, collapsed onto the ground. It happened a few times. Then one time he…never came out of it."

Lothíriel frowned, alarmed by this comparison.

"Not exactly like you," Elfleda added, hurriedly. "But…it reminded me of then."

"Well, I'm not going to die," Lothíriel said, laughing uneasily. "It's just…I think our conversation before I…I fainted, unsettled me."

Elfleda nodded, wiping her eyes.

"I'm sorry for startling you, Elfleda," Lothíriel said.

"I'm sorry for not backing off," Elfleda said. "I won't press you to talk about it anymore. I promise."

"Somehow I don't believe you," Lothíriel said, a little amused. "But it is alright. I just need some rest. That's all."

Efleda gazed at her, a despondent look on her face, before he closed her mouth and sighed. "I don't think there's any way for me to convince you," Elfleda finally said, her voice exceedingly sad for a reason Lothíriel could not discern. "Let us promise not to talk about it again."

"Talk about what?" Lothíriel asked.

"Whether or not Éomer King loves you," Elfleda said.

Lothíriel pursed her lips, glancing at Elfleda out of the corner of her eyes. It seemed the young woman was determined to believe too much of Éomer. "Very well," she said. "Let us promise not to talk about such things in the near future."

Lothíriel leaned back against the pillows and furs behind her. "Goodness," she said. "I cannot believe I almost…if something had happened to the child… You are a strong woman, Elfelda!" Lothíriel suddenly said. "I am not a short woman, but you seemed to have kept me from falling too badly."

"You may be tall," Elfeda said, amused. "But you are thinner than a blade of wheat, my lady. And about as light as one."

Lothíriel snorted. "But wait," she said, frowning. "How long was I out for?"

"Only a few minutes," Elfelda said. "But it was so frightening! I kept thinking…what will happen if our Queen does not wake? What if something happened to her or the child? Oh! My lady…I would never have been able to forgive myself if anything had happened to either of you!"

Lothíriel smiled, patting Elfelda's hand again. "Do not fret," she said. "I am fine. I don't know what came over me. Some kind of fit…it does seem…"

"Perhaps it is stress," Elfelda said. "We should send you back to Edoras as soon as possible, as slowly as possible…and I don't think you should ride Beathra."

"I don't know if we need to go to such extremes," Lothíriel began, but Elfleda shook her head.

"What if you went into another such fit when on horseback?" She asked, worriedly. "You might die, my lady."

That sobered Lothíriel. "Perhaps some sort of wagon would be good," Lothíriel admitted. If she fell off a horse and became injured…the child inside her could be injured and killed as well. Better to be safe…she daren't to think what the Eorlingas and Éomer would think of her if she were to endanger his only heir.

She paused in her thoughts for a second. His only heir…Eomer had implied during their conversation, before things went sour, that he had always wanted to be a father… Was he implying he was not yet a father? Could that be? Or perhaps if he had a mistress he had not yet fathered a child by her yet.

She wondered briefly if perhaps he did not have a mistress. Perhaps he cut off his relationships with other women when he married her, out of respect for her father. That seemed unlikely, however.

"Are you feeling well?" Elfleda asked, her voice etched with worry.

"I'm just thinking," Lothíriel answered, distracted.

Elfleda nodded. "You gave us quite the scare," she said. "A rider was sent out to fetch his Lordship and bring him back immediately." Elfelda paused, "He should be here soon-"

Lothíriel sat up suddenly. "You called for his Lordship?" she asked, confused. "Why? Why would you do such a thing?"

Elfleda stared at her, clearly confused. "Why would I not?" she asked. "HIs wife had collapsed…would he not be worried?"

"Oh, Elfleda…" Lothíriel groaned, rubbing her temples

What would Éomer think of her now? Some frail woman who faints for attention, no doubt. As if she hadn't ruined her reputation with him enough. She hoped he would not be too annoyed when he returned…being interrupted from his ride so suddenly. Perhaps he ignored the messenger? Only time would tell…

She slumped back against the furs and pillows, feeling too embarrassed to do anything other than try to fall back asleep.

Elfleda seemed to gather this, for she began fussing about the room, adjusting things and putting things away, quietly, but Lothíriel, unable to sleep, could still hear her.

Lothíriel eyes opened suddenly at the sound of heavy, fast footfalls. Someone was running up the stairs. And quickly. Who-?!

The door opened and Lothíriel sat up in surprise at the sight of Éomer rushing in, his eyes wild, a frantic expression and demeanor on his face.

"Lothíriel-" he began, rushing to her side, grabbing her hand, and looking almost earnestly into her face. Too stunned to speak, she stared at him, and after a moment, his eyes shifted to look her up and down, most likely looking for any signs of injury. "Are you alright? They said you collapsed and I-"

Lothíriel put a hand on, resting it on Éomer's arm, and stilling him. "Don't worry," she said, as calming as she could. "The child is fine-the healer said I didn't have any impact when I fainted so the babe should be fine."

Éomer stared at her, and Lothíriel was aware of Elfleda scrutinous gaze. "And you?" Éomer asked, "Are you well?"

Lothíriel blinked. "Yes," she said, nodding slowly. "I'm fine. A little tired and embarrassed, but fine."

Éomer sighed, his body releasing tension quickly. Then he looked at Elfelda and by that one look, she quickly put down the jar of sweets in her hand and ushered herself out of the room. Éomer looked at Lothíriel with a concerned gaze. "What happened?" he asked. "Why did you faint?"

Lothíriel opened her mouth to speak, but found that no words came out. How could she explain the reason? He was humiliated enough.

Lothíriel smiled at him, hoping to evade the question. "That's not important," she said. "Just know that I am on the mend. And it shouldn't happen again," she promised. "So there's no need to worry."

At the concerned look on his face, it seemed that would be an impossible task for him. Lothíriel sighed, still smiling at him. "Don't worry," she said. "I promise you I will stay in the peak of health until the child is born."

"I wish you to stay in the peak of health for the remainder of your days," he said, cupping her cheek with his hand and drawing her closer to him. He tenderly kissed her forehead. "And I will always worry after you."

She smiled, before looking up at him and feeling her love for him swell up inside her chest uncontrollably.

"But why…" he began. "Your words earlier today. I do not understand them."

"I was merely being unthinking," Lothíriel spoke quickly. "Of course I didn't mean them. I thought…In Gondor, it is not uncommon for a man of noble status to have a mistress, and since I am pregnant, I thought… you might wish to seek pleasure elsewhere."

Éomer stared at her. "Why?" he asked. "When will my wife be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen? When her wits and her mind are the sharpest? When her laughter can light up my soul?"

Lothíriel gave out a laugh at that. "You do know how to flatter, I'll give you that," she said, chuckling. "And I am not the most beautiful woman you have seen. I have heard the tale of what you said of Queen Arwen," she added, teasingly.

Éomer gave a chuckle of his own. "That was before I saw you," he reminded her. "I thought you were beautiful before I fell in love with you, and after, you became more beautiful than the sunrise over the long plains."

She smiled, and patted his hand affectionately. "Thank you," she said.

"I have no mistress," he added. "And I will never take a mistress. You are the only woman I wish to be with." he paused, "Please…do not speak of such things again. Having one's wife suggest I take a lover is…Not something a good man would wish to hear."

"And you are a good man, I suppose," she said, nodding.

"You suppose?" he asked, amused.

"I know!" she quickly amended, "I know you're a good man. And I did not wish for you to take a lover, I just…didn't want you to feel tied down by me, that is all."

She was glad he seemed to let go of the conversation from earlier. She felt horrible that she had insulted him, and resolved to never bring up the subject of mistresses again. And when he should take a mistress, she would turn a blind eye and let him be with her peacefully. She would not be a petty wife, and she would not bring him dishonor from making a scene. When the day came that he finally found true love, she would not stand in their way, even if it meant she would be sent back to Dol Amroth in shame.

He blinked, before sighing and sliding under the covers next to her. "Oh Lothíriel," he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I wish for nothing else than for you to tie me down."

She smiled. "Figuratively or literally?" she teased.

They both laughed at that.

Hello! I am back! Or at least, I can be if y'all want more updates!

I know lothiriel is frustrating but I'm not lying when I say this is very much a slow burn story haha. Also, this story is first and foremost what i call a "Therapy fic" aka i am using it and Lothiriel to work through my own trauma and issues with self worth and such. It'll be a long road (And a long story, I have like 40-50 or so more chapters plotted out lol). (also for those who think Lothiriel should just have an honest conversation with Eomer... you're right! She should! But in her mind there's nothing to have a conversation *about* since she thinks their relationship is mostly one sided. so it'll be a while before she's open to a full on *healthy* conversation with him unfortunately.)

Anyway! I hope you enjoyed, and let me know if I should start on chapter 11! I'm thinking of trying to be more consistent with this and my other tolkien fics (if there's an interest) :)

(also sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes!)