::disclaimer:: i don't own it, and i never will own it.

Another Day

"Lothíriel! Lothíriel!" Éomer shook her. "Lothíriel, wake up!" She screamed again and opened her eyes, breathing heavily. "Lothíriel?" he asked cautiously.

She sat up and looked at him. "You were dead. He-he beheaded you. The city was burning, and you were dead. You were dead." She threw her arms around him and sobbed hysterically. "They screamed. They were so loud. And I-I shouted, too. I couldn't find you. I couldn't find a way out. Everything was burning, and the women screamed. There was a man in the garden—he said he would bring you to me. They had you—they had you. The man took out his sword and…." She did not finish as the sobs racked her body again, but Éomer could guess the out come. "It was—it was—"

"Just a nightmare," he finished for her. "It was just a nightmare. Nothing is burning, no one is dying, and I still have my head. You needn't fear anymore."

"But it was so real."

"It was only a nightmare," he repeated. He kissed the top of her head. "Now get some sleep." He released her from his embrace, but she only clung tighter.

"Please, don't let go of me," she whispered.

"I won't. I promise."

When Éomer awoke again, it was daylight outside, and there was no sign of Lothíriel. He lay back, reliving the day before. They had laughed a lot—something that surprised Éomer. Once she began to open up, Lothíriel had been willing to laugh at herself and her unfounded fears. She had even admitted to hating side-saddles! They made plans to have the riding lessons another day. Éomer smiled. She seemed willing to learn, and with their new friendship, teaching her would be a pleasure.

And then Éomer's mind turned to darker matters: Lothíriel's nightmare. She had startled him awake when she shouted his name. Though he wondered what the cause of the dream had been, Éomer was comforted and somewhat pleased that Lothíriel had been so frightened for him. And when she asked him not to let go of her, he held her until they both drifted back to sleep. She had felt so wonderful in his arms; he hoped he could spend the rest of his nights with his arms around her.

He was shaken from his thoughts by the sound of a door closing. Éomer rose and pulled on a robe, going out to the solar. Lothíriel jumped when he said, "Good morning."

"Good morning to you as well, Éomer," she said, once she had recovered from her surprise. "I brought you something." She pushed her way into the bedroom, and Éomer caught the smell of fresh scones from her basket.

He breathed deeply. "They smell delicious."

Lothíriel laughed, a sound Éomer delighted in. "The scones are not for you," she said. "This is." She pulled a knife out of the basket. It was silver, inlaid with a mother-of-pearl swan design on the hilt. "I was supposed to give it to you on our wedding night, but I must admit I was disinclined to do so that evening."

"It's beautiful," he murmured.

"It should be; it was made by the best silver smith in Dol Amroth." She smiled, obviously delighted. "I am glad you like it."

He looked up from studying the blade. "I would like one of those scones even more."

She laughed again. "Very well, I suppose you may have one."

"Thank you." He set the knife on the table and took a scone. "Though I would have gotten one anyway."

"Oh? And how would you have managed that?" she asked, taking back the basket.

"I would have distracted you," he answered.

"How?" she began to ask, but before she could finish, he kissed her. The basket fell to the floor as Éomer began to deepen the kiss, but then Lothíriel pushed him away. He tried to kiss her again, but she put her hand on his chest, keeping her distance. "One step at a time, remember?" She moved away and bent to pick up the fallen basket.

Éomer turned away. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she answered.

"I shouldn't have—"

"Don't worry about it."

"Where have you been this morning?" he asked after an awkward silence.

"The kitchens, obviously. No offence to you or your kinsmen, but I have grown tired of venison stew and dark bread and desire something with a bit more flavor. I asked the cook to show me the herb gardens. She was more than happy to comply." She grinned. "Did you know that the soil here is very similar to what we have at home? At least, it is similar to what we have in the palace gardens. I shall have to send for seeds to plant here."

"Or we could go ourselves."

She looked up at him. "That offer is still open? I thought it was just a way to get me out of the palace."

"It was," he admitted, "but the offer is open, just the same. I would like to see my sister before she has her child, and I know you would like to go to Dol Amroth."

"When can we go?"

"As soon as you've learned to ride."

She raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing today?"

They led the horses out through the side gate. Éomer took them around a hill so Lothíriel would feel less self-conscious. As he brought them to a stop, he turned to his wife. "Lothíriel, I would like you to meet Firefoot. Firefoot, this is Lothíriel. Be nice to her." The horse neighed, as if claiming no promises.

"You do not want me to learn to ride on him, do you?" Lothíriel asked, her eyes wide.

Éomer laughed. "Of course not. I would not wish that on even the worst of my enemies. No, you shall be learning on Aelfan, but I want you to be comfortable around Firefoot. He is my closest companion."

"Even closer than Éothain and your advisers?"

He nodded. "Firefoot hears all of my troubles, my fears, my hopes. And he never passes judgment on me."

"I see." She was silent for a moment. "And what of Aelfan?"

"What of him?"

"Will he be my closest companion?"

Éomer could sense that she was testing him—perhaps to see if he would make another blunder. "He will be, if you allow him," he said at last, "though I had hoped for that honor."

She smiled, and he knew he had passed. "Perhaps one day you shall have it," she murmured, so softly he almost did not hear her. She looked up quickly. "Now did we come here to chat or to ride?" she asked.

He grinned. "To ride."

The lessons went well that day. By the middle of the afternoon, Lothíriel could mount Aelfan without needing Éomer to hold the reins. When they returned to the city that evening, she was able to ride at a slow trot. Éomer was quite proud of his pupil, and he told her as much over their dinner.

She blushed and turned away. "You flatter me, surely."

He shook his head. "Few new riders learn so well in a week, let alone a single day."

"But I had some prior experience," she reminded him.

"Hmph." He crossed his arms. "And here I was, hoping you would say your quick learning was due to a most excellent teacher."

"So you wanted me to add to your hubris?" She raised an eyebrow. "I may be your student, but it does not mean I must give you full credit to my skills." She stood abruptly, and Éomer feared that he had offended her with his cajoling. She yawned loudly and stretched, walking toward the bedroom. "I do not know about you," she said, turning back to him, "but I believe I shall take a bath and go to bed. I'm exhausted." She flashed him a smile and disappeared into the bedroom.

A/N: ::grins:: i'm so glad everyone's really liking this story. and just so you know, it was just a nightmare, and it is not a premonition of any sort. but it is important, in its own way (which you shall learn about later).
also, just so you know, i have a new e/l idea, but it's very much in the early idea stages. you can find out more about it by going to my xanga (the link is in my profile). and join xanga, if you're not already a part of it…i'm going to start up an e/l blogring if there's enough people interested.