AN: Well, here I am again. Thanks for all the reviews! Someday I'll get around to writing personal responses to all of them.
I'm proud of this chapter. It's long! I worked on it every night this week, a little at a time. Hopefully in the next update you'll be able to tell where my plot is going.

One year later…

She couldn't get rid of the freckles.

Everything else had gone according to play, but the freckles defied her. Lothiriel had tried everything- lemon juice, egg yolks, some very expensive and suspicious-looking concoctions she had purchased from a Haradrim woman- but nothing worked. The sprinkling of light brown dots across her nose refused to go away.

Sighing, she looked away from the mirror and turned instead to the northward-facing window of her tower room. It commanded an excellent view of the main city gates, and had afforded her the knowledge that the party from Ithilien was approaching swiftly.

Lothiriel was looking forward to seeing her favorite cousin again. Eowyn was her best friend. The Princess was also eager to become better acquainted with the Queen Evenstar and King Elessar.

But, she admitted to herself, she was most anxious to greet again the King of Rohan, Eomer Eadig. Eomer had visited his sister in Ithilien, then accompanied Eowyn and Faramir through Minas Tirith and southward to Dol Amroth.

Their visitors were rapidly approaching. Lothiriel took a deep breath, straightened her back, and opened her door. There was a young guardsman in the hallway.

"Kylar, please inform Ulthasos that I will ride out to meet our guests. Have him send a message to Atar as well."

Kylar bowed his head politely and set off to find his commander. Lothiriel considered briefly the formality of the Princess' Guard. The custom had not bothered her at first- she had merely taken it as a matter of course. After all, it was tradition, and she was used to having soldiers follow her everywhere she went outside the palace. It was only safe. Since her return from Rohan the previous year, however, she had found the practice more and more of a nuisance. She longed for privacy and freedom; to be able to go where she wanted and do whatever she liked without being watched.

"This is the price we pay for our blessings," Lothiriel murmured, quoting her father. "'We are given the opportunity to live in luxury while maintaining the good of the people of the city. In return for wealth and privilege we give up the security of anonymity.'" She sighed mentally: the speech was a familiar one.

Lothiriel set out briskly through the labyrinth-like passageways of the palace. It was a rambling place with many meandering passageways that lacked a wall here or a ceiling there. As a result, what rooms were enclosed were filled with the scent of flowers and the ocean year-round, for the City was a southern one. The walls were of white stone, with silvery tiles covering the roof from which the Swan flew.

Ulthasos was waiting for her in the stables. He gave his customary bow and smiled in greeting. "Princess."

"I did not expect your personal escort, Ulthasos. There is no danger- if you have something more important to do one of your lieutenants would be sufficient guard," Lothiriel said in protest of his presence. Any Guard at all would be an annoyance, but somehow Ulthasos was worse. Sometimes she thought he took his job too seriously.

"Nothing is more important than your safety, Princess." Lothiriel mentally rolled her eyes but held her tongue as the man continued with a grin, "But no, I don't have anything else to do."

"Very well." Lothiriel's white mare, Anatidae, was saddled and ready, but something was wrong. She glared suddenly at Ulthasos. "You've been meddling again, Ulthasos."

The guard briefly thought to play dumb, but wisely decided that Lothiriel would never fall for that. "Princess, it would not be seemly for State visitors to see you riding astride. I thought you would prefer to ride sidesaddle for today at least."

"You thought wrong!" Lothiriel snapped. She turned away and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, that was quite rude of me, but I will ride astride. Please resaddle Anatidae." She did not look back until she heard Ulthasos finish the job. He looked sullen. Serves him right! Lothiriel thought. It's none of his business. Besides, the Rohirrim women ride astride always, so I doubt visitors from Rohan will care.

Ulthasos uneasily obeyed her.

Faramir hadn't been exaggerating, Eomer admitted to himself. Dol Amroth was stunning. The midday sun reflected off the white stone gave the impression that the entire city was glowing with heavenly beauty. Beyond, the sea glimmered in undulating turquoise waves. Despite his glorious surroundings, though, Eomer felt a pang of longing for the wide plains and Golden Hall of Rohan.

He missed the people as well. Halathain and Erulehton were with him, true, and Valar knew he loved seeing Eowyn…but he felt the lack of the commoners, as well. The small farmers, the horse-breeders, the crafty merchants- they were Rohan. The people he served.

"The city is as grand as they said!" Halathain observed, awe in his voice. Eomer bristled.

"Indeed, it is grand. But I find it lacking in a golden roof," He shot Halathain a Look.

Faramir laughed. "Never let one of the natives hear you say such or you will be treated to hours of discourse on the noble history of the City. And that is another thing! You must begin thinking of it as the City- with a capital at the beginning. Don't ask me how, but the Cityfolk can tell even by your speech if you do not. They would consider it a dishonor."

Eowyn joined the conversation. "Perhaps most would, but I never heard a hint from Lothiriel about this touchy pride you say the Cityfolk have."

"That is because the Princess is a timid lady. She struck me as too kind and meek to be sensitive about something so trivial," Eomer said. He had scattered memories of Lothiriel- just another well-bred noblewoman. Pleasant, but unremarkable. "Who is that riding out to meet us?"

Everyone looked at the road ahead. They were less than a mile from the main gate of Dol Amroth. Two people on horseback were approaching them.

"A man and a woman, but I don't recognize them," Eomer remarked. "Not that that's any surprise. Riding quite fast, in fact." He looked at Faramir in time to catch his brother's grin.

"What's this? Your memory has failed you, Eadig!"

Eomer frowned at the comment and the sobriquet. "What do you mean?" Again he studied the approaching riders. There was something familiar about the lady.

"There, riding astride at a swift pace, is your meek, timid Lothiriel!"

As the wind rushed into her face, Lothiriel reflected on the past year. Eomer's words at the wedding at embarrassed and shamed her at first, but her feelings had soon changed to indignation and even anger. She was NOT a little girl, and he had no right to refer to her as such. She was the Princess of Dol Amroth!

And it was time she started acting like it.

The first thing she did was learn to ride. For that she had gone to her youngest brother, Amrothos. Amrothos was a student of nature, with a love for all living things that manifested itself in an affinity to animals, horses included. He taught Lothiriel how to trust the animal to take care of her and how, in turn, to earn the horse's confidence. They rode for hours each day until Lothiriel was accomplished at both sidesaddle and the normal style of riding. Eventually, she learned to enjoy the feel of the horse's smooth movements beneath her, the sense of adventure that came with an all-out gallop, and the sensation of the clean sea-air washing over her.

After that, she had turned to Elphir, the eldest of Imrahil's children and future Prince. From him, Lothiriel had learned what she could about diplomacy and politics. Most important, however, was the lesson he had given her just before going into conference with a group of Haradrim.

"You must never, ever show the slightest bit of self-doubt or fear. If you do, all is lost, for you can never regain that kind of respect. Always exude an aura that is confident, calm, and controlled," Elphir had paused. "Your pretty face won't hurt, either!" For by that time, Lothiriel had put into effect the final stage of her plan.

Her looks had always been a source of consternation for her. On one hand, she desired to be beautiful and graceful, while on the other she scorned the ladies of the aristocracy who seemed to have nothing but cosmetic puffs for brains. But she decided that she could not prove Eomer truly wrong until she looked older and more confident.

Lothiriel began taking daily walks through the City. Her body slowly grew leaner, darker, and more toned. In addition, she incorporated fish and local vegetables that her maids swore were the best thing for staying slim into her diet. All local remedies for freckles, however, proved useless, and the freckles remained.

Her walks served another purpose, as well. Lothiriel visited every herbalist's shop in the City that she could find, and some that Ulthasos would never have let her go in had he been on duty the days she carefully selected to visit such places. At each location she would approach the proprietor and inquire after hair potions. Every shop had one 'guaranteed' to perform miracles, but only one actually worked. She found it at a small, hole-in-the-wall establishment in a poor but respectable part of the City, and it worked nearly immediate wonders. Suddenly her mane was manageable. The curls loosened and became glossy, responding for once to the demands of the maid who dressed them.

Yes, it had been a long haul. But as she reigned in Anatidae in front of the handsome King of Rohan, she couldn't help but think that it had definitely been worth it. The look of disbelief on his face was priceless.