:disclaimer: i only own them in my dreams.

Chapter XXIV

The four men made their way down to the beach after preparing their horses. It was a glorious day, made even better by the festivities going on in the city. Amrothos in particular received several posies from beautiful girls bedecked in flowers and bright colors.

"Don't you have enough flowers already?" asked Erchirion when his brother was handed yet another garland of flowers.

"Apparently not," said Éomer, laughing at the glare that Erchirion was shooting Amrothos. "But come on, Erchirion, we have races to win."

"You have races to win," the prince reminded him. "You're the one from Rohan."

"But I've never ridden on sand."

"If you slack off just so that I'll win, I'll tell Adar what I saw the other night," threatened Erchirion.

Éomer held his hands up in acquiescence. "Very well. No slacking."

"Come on, you two," said Faramir, "we'll be late and none of us will win."

Lord Aermaethor was at the beach when they arrived. Éomer sized up the man's steed: the stallion was not so big as Firefoot, but it looked meaner than a battalion of orcs. A stableboy was trying to saddle the beast, who was threatening to rear. Aermaethor stood to the side, flirting with a few of the girls that had come to watch the race.

Éomer nudged Erchirion. "Does the man not realize that his horse could kill that boy? The lad's less than half the size of the animal! Aermaethor should saddle his own steed."

Erchirion shrugged. "Perhaps that is the custom in Rohan, but here, many lords have squires for such."

"Perhaps it should become the custom here." As if to agree with Éomer's words, the great black beast rose up on its hind legs, extending its forelegs to hit the boy. The boy jumped out of the way just before it struck. Éomer ran toward the horse, reaching out for the reins. Slowly, he calmed the beast, whispering soothing words to it in Rohirric. As he handed the reins back to the stableboy, Aermaethor came toward him.

"What do you think you are doing, rochir?" snapped the man.

"Saving your stablehand from the horse," answered Éomer. "Something that you should have been doing."

"Do not tell me what I should and should not do."

"You do not deserve such a regal being." Éomer turned, ignoring the stares from the other racers, and walked back to where Erchirion was holding Firefoot.

Moments later, Aermaethor rode over to where they stood. He spat on the ground at Éomer's feet. "Stay away from my horse, myself, and my woman."

All three of the men standing near Éomer immediately went rigid, but it was Amrothos who lunged at Aermaethor. It was all that Faramir and Éomer could do to hold him back. "You stay away from my sister, you arrogant bastard," he shouted. "You leave her alone. She doesn't love you, she never has, and she never will. If I ever see you near her aga—" The end of his threat was stifled by Erchirion's hand over his mouth. The young prince struggled against his subjugators as Aermaethor trotted away. At last, the three men let him go. "Are you just going to let him do that?" he asked. "Just let him ride away? He insulted our sister, your cousin, your…." He trailed off, unsure of what to say to Éomer. "Are you going to let him go?"

"No," said Éomer quietly. He took up Firefoot's reins and walked toward the lord. "Aermaethor," he called. The man turned and looked at him. "I challenge you to a race, for the honor of Princess Lothíriel. If I win, you leave Lothíriel alone forever, unless she herself asks for you."

"And if I win?"

"It is up to you."

"You leave Dol Amroth and never return."

"You have my word." Éomer spat into his hand and extended it toward the other man.

Aermaethor wrinkled his nose in distaste, but did the same. The two men shook.

"You name the race," said Éomer.

"Do you see those rocks in the distance?" said Aermaethor. Éomer nodded. "To those rocks and back. Caladiel—" he nodded to the girl who had plagued Éomer and Amrothos a few nights before "—will declare the winner."

"Very well."

The two men mounted their horses and stood next to each other. Caladiel stepped forward. "On the word, 'ego.' Taith, penio, ego!"

The two riders took off at a break-neck speed. They were neck and neck, but gradually Éomer edged ahead. The rocks were not too far distant now, and he began to slow slightly to allow Firefoot the time and space to turn. Aermaethor caught up to him and smirked as he sped his horse through the turn. Éomer saw what was coming before it happened. Aermaethor's horse hit the ground with a shriek and a thud. Éomer was down on the ground and inspecting the horse before he knew what he was doing. He calmed it with soothing words and slow strokes along its neck. He was checking its legs when Faramir and Erchirion arrived, panting.

"Make sure Aermaethor is alive," Éomer said curtly, never taking his eyes from the horse. None of its bones were broken—a wonder after a fall like that. He guided the horse back up on its feet, still whispering to it. Satisfied at last that the horse was calmed, he turned to where Faramir and Erchirion were helping Aermaethor to his feet. The man's left arm was at an odd angle, and it took Éomer a moment to realize that it must have broken in the fall.

"Is the horse all right, Éomer?" asked Faramir.

"He's a little shaken, but he'll be fine."

"Good. We need to get Aermaethor to a healer." Éomer nodded mutely. "May he ride Firefoot?"

Éomer hesitated slightly before answering. "Don't rush him. He's already been run hard and he's not used to you."

"We'll bring Aermaethor's horse to the stables for him," said Erchirion. He turned to Éomer. "Are you all right?"

"I am fine." He did not feel fine, though. A few years earlier, and that might have been him riding his horse to the brink, not caring about the danger. "I just need to walk for a bit."

Erchirion nodded, though his eyes betrayed his concern. The two men made their way back to the spectators that had stayed at the finish line. No one spoke, and the crowd soon dispersed, leaving only Éomer, Erchirion, and Amrothos.

"He got what he deserved," said Amrothos after a moment.

"He nearly killed his horse, Amrothos."

"That man does not deserve this horse," said Éomer quietly as he stroked the beast's neck. "Had Aermaethor been one of my people, he could have easily beaten me. His horse is still young, still has years to learn its own strength. And it is black, a rarity these days. He does not know his own fortune."

"Let's return his horse to the stables and find something a bit happier to dwell on, shall we?" said Erchirion. The other two nodded their assent, and the three men made their way back to the city.

They met Faramir again after tending to the horse. After a few minutes of discourse, they decided at last to find Lothíriel and get a meal. The four split up, Faramir and Amrothos heading toward Dockside and Éomer and Erchirion making their way to Dancer's Square and the Quarter.

Éomer had nearly forgotten his desire to see the Quarter in the daylight after all of the excitement since his first foray into the artisans' section of the city. Now, that desire was renewed, and he enjoyed looking at everything the shop windows offered. There were clay pots of all shapes and sizes, metal and marble and wooden statuettes, and fabrics that appeared to be made of thread so thin that it would melt at the touch. With all of these distractions, it was a wonder that Erchirion could get Éomer to leave the Quarter for Dancer's Square.

Though the square was wide, it was still crowded, and they had trouble searching through it. Erchirion saw a few of his friends from the cavalry and asked them if they had seen Lothíriel, but it was to no avail. None of them had seen her, and from the sound of it, she had never come to the square. Lothíriel had given them the slip. Annoyed and more than slightly perturbed with his sister, Erchirion rounded up Éomer, who was in danger of being swept off by the dancers, and they headed back to Dockside and Saberman's.

"I don't think she ever went to Dancer's Square," said Erchirion as he walked into the tavern. "No one, not even Ulthasos, who'd been there all day, had seen her."

"Blast." It was Faramir who spoke. "Where do you think she's gone?"

Amrothos shrugged. "Who knows? Wherever she is, we know she's not gallivanting with a lover. All three of them are accounted for: Éomer and Erulehton are both here, and Aermaethor's at the healer's."

"What's this?" said Aela as she brought them a round of drinks. "Who's at the healer's?"

"Lord Aermaethor," explained Erchirion. "He broke his arm after falling from his horse."

"Ah," she answered. And then, "I heard you were looking for Lothíriel."

"Yes," said Faramir, looking attentively at her. "Has she been by?"

"Not since last night." All four of them looked at her, startled.

"She came down here late last night to talk," said Erulehton, joining in on the conversation for the first time. "I walked her back to the palace afterward."

"Talk about what?" asked Amrothos.

Erulehton rubbed his chin. "I do not think I am allowed to say."

"Oh."

The group lapsed into silence, each lost in his own thoughts about the princess.

translations:
taith: ready
penio: set
ego: go

A/N: would you believe me if i told you that the reason this took so long was because i was kidnapped and taken hostage by the king of rohan? no? ratsickles. well then, i'll tell the truth: i was kidnapped and taken host by the red sox. kind of. sort of. not really. anyways, sorry this took so long. i got sidetracked. but now that i'm out of my writing rut, i should be able to get this story finished soon! eomer's only got a week left in dol amroth, after all, and that week will be considerably shorter than this one was. but first, the final encounter with lothiriel during the festival. and i'm getting ahead of myself, so i'll just say this last thing before answering reviews: "the day rises" received an award at secrethavens! i got judges' choice for it! yay! my first ever fanfic award!

now for the replies:
loremaster of anorien: thank you for your review! i'm glad you like aela and erulehton. i might write a mini-fic about what happened to aela someday. i'm also very glad that you like eomer being chivalrous. the whole elphir thing is a bit over-dramatic, i admit, but he's also one of the least-developed characters in this. which is a bad excuse, but oh well.
capriceann hedican-kocur: don't worry, they will get together. it may take them four years, but it will happen.
lariren-shadow: i'm going to let everyone ponder about eomer's intentions in ch. 23, because i'm not sure what they were myself. and no, the dark-haired man was DEFINITELY not grima. if you didn't catch it, eomer dreamed backwards. first, he and lothiriel were smiling at elfwine. then, eowyn and faramir were together. and last, eowyn saw the witch-king.
blue eyes at night: glad you liked the chapter. sorry again that this took so long.

starnat: thankies!
balrogthane: i don't know that i'll ever fully recover from The Great Crash of 2005. i lost a lot of really good stuff in that. and ch. 23 wasn't terribly hard to write so differently. after all, i'd hardly touched the story in nearly 2 months.
quizzabella: hope you liked the race! and i'm glad you like the way i've written lothiriel!
mad-aniviel: she's definitely a minx. and don't worry, the word games will return. eventually. i promise!
shilly: this probably wasn't as soon as you would have liked, but i hope you enjoyed it anyways!
lometari: yes, it keeps the story going. :) and they have to be a little bit stubborn. otherwise, there'd be no tension in the story (yeah right, no tension).
ladyarian: i'm glad you like my complicated lothiriel. and yes, eomer is TOTALLY awesome.
faerchithiel: yes, tension. don't you love it? and there's more on its way! MWA-HAHAHA! ahem. thanks for the review.