Éowyn

It was very nice of Arwen to invite us all to the Citadel for dinner that evening, though I noted with some apprehension that she had seated Lothíriel and Èomer across from each other at the table, and after hearing Lothíriel's account of what had happened between her and Éomer that afternoon, I knew that even attempting to hold a conversation with my idiot brother was more than she wished for that evening. But the queen, as usual, was a lovely hostess, her many years of experience allowing her to be most attentive to her guests' needs, and she ably smoothed over any angry words that were shared at that end of the table with the suggestion that we all retire to the garden after we dined as it was such a beautifully clear night.

Arwen's Elven heritage was never more in evidence than that evening when she graciously accepted our enthusiastic request for a story from when the world was young, centuries before any of her guests had even been considered--or our mothers, or our grandmothers. By starlight, in her melodious voice, she quietly began telling us an enchanting, bittersweet tale from the First Age about her grandfather, Eärendil, and his adventures upon his ship, Vingilot.

Though fascinated by her story, I yet looked from time to time at the rapt wonder upon my husband's face as he absorbed her words. I knew that he was terribly aware at this moment of the great age of the being who stood before him, telling him a story that I knew he had read a thousand times from one book or another. Even my brother seemed utterly enthralled by the Queen of Gondor's tale.

It was with no little annoyance on my part that I suddenly felt rather ill, lightheaded and overheated, and I sought to make a graceful exit without interrupting everyone else. Slowly I stood and somewhat haltingly stepped toward the door that led inside, hoping not to draw any attention to myself. Unfortunately, I failed miserably when I lost my balance and fell into one of the flower beds near the wall, managing to crush many of the queen's lovely blooms at the same time. There was a small cry of alarm from Arwen, who was the only one who actually witnessed my collapse, but instantly Faramir and Éomer were kneeling on either side of me, both with expressions of concern upon their faces.

"Éomer, bring her inside," commanded the queen in a soft tone, and despite my protests, my brother lifted me into his arms and bore me into her home, gently depositing me upon the comfortable upholstered couch nearest the door.

"Please, I just lost my balance," I groaned as my husband stepped forward and took my hand after he felt my face as if searching for fever.

"You are pale and trembling, my love. It does not hurt you to rest here for a bit," he said, stroking his thumb across the back of my hand. "Is it the babe?" he asked, and I found myself resentful of his question. But before I could say a word to him, Arwen was there with a potion that she wished for me to drink, so I did, hoping that I might feel better soon and escape from these eyes all filled with pity as they looked down upon me.

"You should take her home to her own bed," said Arwen. "I think she is fine, just a bit tired."

"I am right here. Do not speak as if I cannot make my own decisions!"

"Éowyn!" chided Faramir gently.

The queen seemed a little surprised by my words, but said, "Of course, Éowyn. Forgive me. You should go home now and get some rest."

"I shall carry her," said Éomer, and I shot daggers at him from my eyes. He seemed to be the only one immune to my temper, however, and he easily raised me from the couch. Everyone made apologies to the queen for having to leave so early, and then my brother slowly brought me home with my husband by his side, looking on in concern. Lothíriel and Imrahil followed wordlessly behind us. I felt momentarily guilty as I looked at their expressions of anxiety, most especially that of Faramir, but I was yet angry and too stubborn to apologize for my outburst.

Éomer carried me to my bed and departed after nodding to me and then to Faramir, leaving me to the attention of my husband, who was looking rather shaky himself. "Éowyn, are you well?"

"Yes, I just lost my balance, Faramir!" I cried at him, exasperated.

He cast his eyes down to where his hand clutched mine. "You frightened me, love," he murmured as he sat down next to me, and with those words, he completely dissolved my anger, and my guilt came to the fore.

I softened my tone. "Faramir, worry not, for I am well now, though I am rather sleepy." I squeezed his hand. "Go, find Éomer and put his mind at ease. I shall sleep now." He nodded, looking miserable, and I could not resist pulling his face to mine and kissing him soundly upon the lips before he stood, promising to return soon as he departed.

I had little time to contemplate my feelings before I fell to sleep, but I decided that being pregnant was terrifying. Holding the heir to the Steward of Gondor within my body was a responsibility that I was uncertain I was ready to undertake, and as I drifted away, I foolishly wondered if Faramir would love me as much after he had a son to lavish his attention upon.
Imrahil

As I sat down in Faramir's study to await him, Éomer joined me, seeming a little nervous, something for which the King of Rohan was not known. I guessed that it must be because of Éowyn's collapse earlier as I gestured toward the chair next to mine, and he nodded his thanks as he sat. He brooded silently for a time before saying, "Lord Imrahil, I wonder if we might discuss something while we await your nephew."

I wondered at his formality and returned it in kind. "Of course, Lord Éomer. What is it?"

"It is your daughter, Lothíriel," he said, and I could not help but chuckle at his expression of utter confusion. She oft had that effect upon men, but never would I have thought that she could affect this particular Rohirrim thus. He eyed me for a moment as if weighing how much he should say to me before he continued. "It has been brought to my attention that your daughter might be interested in me as a prospective husband."

I nodded. "Yes, I have been informed of that as well."

"As you are her father, I know not how much is prudent to say, so I will speak plainly, and if I anger you with my words, I will suffer whatever penalty you deem appropriate." He had my interest. "Sir," he began, "your daughter is a spoiled, little brat. Though she is a beautiful woman, and I have managed to enjoy her company at least partially, I cannot say that she and I would make a good match. I hoped that perhaps you might set her mind on someone else."

I raised my eyebrow. "You do not care for my daughter?"

He shrugged a little, appearing to be more unsettled now than when he began. "I cannot say that I do not care for her. It is only that I do not understand her, and it seems that ever I am doomed to speak the wrong words to her and so throw her into a rage. Perhaps she would be better suited for someone more well versed in courtly ways and the appropriate manner in which to treat such a lady."

"My lord, if it makes you feel any better, I am well aware that my daughter is spoiled. What girl could not become spoiled being the only female in a household filled with men? After her mother died, her brothers and I could not lavish enough attention upon her, and I fear that she began to greatly enjoy and expect it from everyone else in her life as well.

"As for her tantrums, if you learn to handle her correctly, she shall not rage against you. She does not grow wroth with me any longer, maybe because I do not argue with her, and so I am not a good challenge for her anger. I think that you would be a fine husband for Thíri, Lord Éomer, and I have said as much to her. Now I have said it to you as well. And I know that she would be valuable to you as a wife, more so than just a partner in a marriage to forge a closer bond between our two countries. Thíri is a sharp-witted person, able to think easily on her feet. I have allowed her to attend me in my meetings since she was ten, and she has learned much of statecraft in that time. I believe that she would be a formidable queen by your side.

"So, please, do not give up on her so easily. Rare is it that something or someone easily obtained is worth having. And Lothíriel takes after her mother, a lady who was to me the dearest woman who ever lived."

He remained silent as he considered my words. Finally he said, "You have given me much to think about, Imrahil. Thank you for hearing me out." He rose, and I nodded.

"Thank you for coming to me with your concerns, Éomer."

Absently he wandered from the room, leaving me to muse on how things between the Princess of Dol Amroth and the King of Rohan would turn out in the end.
Éomer

After searching through the steward's residence for a bit, I found Lothíriel alone in Éowyn's sitting room, stitching some garment by the light of the fire. Though she seemed reluctant to speak with me as she barely looked up from her work, she yet invited me to sit, and so I did, positioning myself in a chair a short distance away from her.

"How is Éowyn?" she asked me.

"I do not know, in truth, but I think she shall be fine. Her wrath is intact; that is a good sign." She nodded, and I continued."My lady, I wish to ride with you again tomorrow."

She glanced up at me, and then back down to her stitchery. "Why do you think that I would want to ride with you again?"

"Because there is naught else to do in this city but shop or stitch, and riding is much more interesting than either of those. As I am riding tomorrow, I thought that you might as well join me."

"Oh, how noble of you!" she exclaimed sarcastically, glaring at me.

Knowing that I had her attention now, I smiled, and she looked taken aback. "I thought that you might see it as I do." I rose. "I shall meet you at your door on the morrow two hours past dawn. Good night." Before she had a chance either to close her mouth or to speak again, I stalked from the room, closing the door firmly behind me. This could well turn out to be a most interesting and entertaining game, I thought.
Faramir

"Uncle, have you seen Éomer?" I asked as I entered my study to find my uncle engrossed in one of my favorite history tomes.

He closed the book and laid it aside. "He was here a little bit ago, asking after Lothíriel, but he left after that. How is your wife?"

"Weary, but I think that she is well enough. Her foul temper certainly is in good form this evening anyway." Imrahil appeared as if he wished to speak to me. "I cannot stay very long with you, Uncle. I told her that I would return to her soon."

"Of course, my boy. I only wondered what your view on my daughter is."

I was surprised by his words. There was much that I could say, for Thíri is a very complex person who has cultivated a persona for herself that is in keeping with what people expect of the only daughter of a prince. But though she might appear empty-headed and shallow at times, she is very intelligent and witty. "Thíri? She is a wonderful woman! I adore her. Why do you ask?"

His expression was pained, and I sat beside him, concerned. "I fear that I have spoiled her so badly that no man will have her to wife. I am a selfish old man."

"Uncle! You are not! What has happened to make you say such a thing?"

"Fara, when your Aunt Ancalimë died, Lothíriel was all that I had left to me of my wife's beauty and vitality. We were both heartbroken, and I thought to ease our pain by lavishing all of my attention upon my daughter. I allowed her any trinket, any bauble that she wished for herself. There was naught that was too good for her, and I did not deny her anything for which she asked.

"I think that I hoped to keep her with me a while longer by providing these things for her, for what husband would wish to be burdened with a woman who is used to getting her way all of the time, a woman who wants for naught? It rarely occurred to me that these things would not be enough, that she might wish to marry for love and companionship that she cannot receive from her father.

"That time has come at last, and the one man who seems to interest her, who I think would be a good match as well, has discovered that Thíri is spoiled, and I fear that he shall not pursue her further, and it shall be my fault if this happens!"

"Are you speaking about Éomer?" Uncle nodded. "Éomer is the most stubborn man that I have ever known. He is much more stubborn even than Bo was. If he has decided that Thíri is the woman for him, and it is meant to be, he will have her."

"Think you so?"

"With all of my heart, Uncle." I smiled at him, and his expression softened.

"Stubbornness runs in our family, too," he said quietly, nodding.

"I must go, Uncle." He admitted that it was growing late, and we stood. "Do not worry for Thíri. She is accustomed to getting her way, and if she wants to marry Éomer, she will have him. I have no doubt of it." I squeezed his shoulder, and I saw that he felt some relief at my words before I bid him good night and returned to Éowyn's side.

She lay peacefully sleeping in our bed, her lovely golden hair spread about her, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, and I thought that never had I seen her looking more beautiful. But I was loath to join her, for I did not wish to wake her with my fumbling about in the dark, so instead I sat in a chair and contemplated her lovely features.

It seemed that I was a lucky man in the end. Despite all of the hardships and grief that I had suffered over the course of my life, I had achieved happiness for myself. Perhaps it was because of my difficulties, in fact. Now I was married to the most beautiful woman upon Arda, and I had time to study her face as she slept, time to think on the new life that she held within herself. It was a miracle, all of it, and so much more than I deserved. I silently thanked the Valar for the wondrous changes in my life, and sank further into the chair, prepared to spend the night there if necessary.

Something, though, alerted Éowyn to my presence, and she awakened, looking blearily at me with a confused expression. "Is it very late?" she asked, and I answered in the negative. "Faramir, come to bed," she bade, a slow smile spreading across her features.

I stood immediately. "Yes, my lady," I said, as I began to remove my clothing, again silently thanking the Valar for my new life.
Éomer

On my way down to The Cook's Kettle with Firefoot and Roäc, I wondered if Lothíriel would see fit to answer the door to me after the disaster that had been yesterday's outing. And so, I knocked upon her door, preparing myself to be driven away by her shouting voice.

But I need not have been concerned, as she willingly opened the door to me and stepped into the corridor. The significance of the color that she wore was not lost upon me, for the gown was fashioned of a delicate black fabric, and I wondered if she truly wanted to wear such an extravagant frock in which to ride. I, myself, had worn only a simple shirt and trousers today as I had not expected it to be a formal occasion. But I was relieved that she did not seem wroth with me any longer, far from it indeed.

"My lady, you are beautiful." I brought her hand to my lips and kissed it, never taking my eyes from hers. She smiled as she closed the door to her room, and I escorted her downstairs to our waiting mounts. This time, she made no move to mount Roäc, and I asked her permission and was given it before I grasped her around the waist and easily lifted her onto the gelding's back.

"Thank you," she murmured as I turned and mounted Firefoot, and then she said, "If you would permit it, my lord, there is somewhere that I would like to stop before we depart the city."

"Of course, my lady." I allowed her to lead the way, and soon we were before a small bakery not far from the inn.

"I was unable to break my fast this morning, Lord Éomer, so I thought we might be able to find something here that would suit us both." I dismounted and then lifted her down to the ground before we entered the little shop, the delicious scents inside causing my mouth to water though I had eaten already. Lothíriel chose a dozen of various tiny sugared cakes and I chose half a dozen honey cakes and half a dozen quince tartlets as I was uncertain of what the lady preferred to eat.

Now armed with pastries and a bottle of milk, we remounted and rode slowly, eventually passing through the gate and onto the Pelennor Fields. Lothíriel veered southward from the road and eased Roäc into a canter, and I followed, noticing that her gown shimmered where the sun reflected off it.

It was not long before we reached a breach in the Rammas Echor, and just beyond that the bank of the River Anduin only a little way upstream from the docks of Harlond. She bade me to settle my blanket upon the grassy bank where we could see the sun climb through the mist hanging over the sparkling water of the wide river. She settled herself quickly, her back facing the water so she could watch me. Before I had time to make myself entirely comfortable opposite her, she had pushed one of her cakes into my mouth. It was delicate, its sweetness instantly dissolving in my mouth, and it was the most delicious thing I have ever eaten, though it may have seemed so because it had come from her fingers. Still kneeling close to me, she boldly reached her hand toward my mouth, gently gliding her fingers over my lips, wiping the sugar from them. It was a bold move on her part, but she seemed unaware of the intimacy of the gesture, and I decided to show her how bold I could be in return.

I gently grasped her wrist and guided her index finger into my mouth, sucking gently until the remaining sugar had dissolved while I watched the emotions play across her face. Finally, she disintegrated into a fit of giggles. "That tickles!" she exclaimed.

Reluctantly, I withdrew her finger from my mouth, saying, "You taste most delightful, my lady." Only then did it seem to occur to her that what we were doing might seem improper if viewed by others. As she looked about nervously, I released her hand, saying, "Fear not, Lady Lothíriel, I shall do naught to compromise your honor. You have my solemn vow as a Rider of Rohan."

"I do not fear you, Lord Éomer, though I do wonder what my father would say if he saw us now."

I looked about us. "Is he hiding somewhere around here?"

She laughed. "I do not think so, though our ship rests at anchor at yonder dock, and with it, fifty Dol Amroth men who are very loyal to him."

"Ah, spies!" I smiled.

She laughed again, and I offered her half of one of my tartlets. She took it, saying, "Quince tartlets are my favorite."

"Then why did you purchase those little cakes for yourself?"

"I bought these for you, my lord." I smiled again as she nibbled upon her tartlet.

"And I bought these for you, my lady," I told her, handing her the other half. She smiled as she accepted it, and we ate our breakfast in companionable silence, though it was broken occasionally by Lothíriel's quiet giggles as she fed me from her own hand, and I broke everything that I gave to her into small pieces first. I enjoyed watching her eat, and she seemed to enjoy watching me as well.

Unfortunately for us both, I had placed the blanket much too close to the edge of the river. When we had finished breaking our fast, she rose too quickly and somehow lost her footing, falling backwards into the Anduin. The current was swift here, and in seconds she was being pulled out into the middle. Without thought, I jumped in behind her, hoping to catch up to her before she was completely swept away.

Her lack of cries should have alerted me to her condition, but I had not paused to consider that she had grown up by the sea and was a more than competent swimmer despite being hindered by her skirts. I, too, was a fine swimmer, I thought, but I knew nothing of the currents within the River Anduin, and soon I found myself buffeted against a partially submerged tree rather close to the bank, where I quickly became entangled in its branches. The more I struggled, the less I could move as my hair and clothing were held fast. Cursing loudly in my native language, I watched in amazement as Lady Lothíriel slowly swam back toward the edge of the river as she approached Harlond, and there she was pulled out of the water by several Dol Amroth men who had obviously been watching her progress.

She appeared unharmed as she thanked the men and then departed their company to return to me. I was uncertain if I should draw her attention toward me as I fought to release my cursed hair from the dead wood, or if I should just stay here and rot. Though she was drenched, her carefully styled hair ruined, her sodden dress weighing her down, she was obviously searching the bank for me, wondering where I had gone. I spoke her name as she started to walk past me. It took her only a moment to locate me, but instead of showing concern for me, she began to giggle uncontrollably at my predicament.

"Lord Éomer, what has happened to you?"

"I jumped in after you, my lady, not realizing that you are obviously part fish."

"My lord, I have been swimming since before I could walk! Forgive me for laughing, but you look so ridiculous. . . ."

"My lady, I must inform you that you look almost as ridiculous as I."

"Do you require help?"

My pride spoke. "No, I will disentangle myself in a moment." So, she stood smiling, shading her eyes from the sun, and stared at me as I futilely pulled at my own hair with my one free hand, unable even to reach my own dagger to cut myself free.

After a few moments, she cleared her throat, and asked me again if I required aid. This time I cast my pride aside and spoke quietly to her, "Yes, my lady."

"I am sorry, but I cannot hear you."

She knew what I had said, I know it, but she forced me to repeat myself in a louder voice, my wrath burning brighter every second.

"Hold tight, Lord Éomer. I shall return with aid for you."

"Can you not just wade out here and pass me my dagger, Lothíriel?" I asked her, praying that she would not do what I thought she was going to do.

"Nay, my lord! I would just end up entangled like you!" She turned and started back toward Harlond with a purposeful stride.

Suddenly I cared not what she thought of me as I called after her, hoping to change her mind before she was out of range of my voice. And I know that I saw her shoulders shaking with mirth as she walked! When she at last reached the docks again, she spoke briefly with the three men who had aided her from the water before all four of them moved in my direction. I sighed in barely-suppressed rage, gritting my teeth, and closing my eyes, hoping that at the very least, this degradation would be over quickly.

"'Hoy, Lord Éomer!" shouted the largest of them. I groaned inwardly. Why did she tell them who I was? "We shall have you free in just a moment," he said, placing his knife between his teeth and jumping down into the shallows. Mercifully, it took little time for him to reach me and cut me free, but I was most ungracious as I wordlessly waded back to the shore with him behind me. The two men yet on shore each offered me a hand which I reluctantly accepted, and then I was standing on the shore, dripping while I glared at my breakfast companion.

She enthusiastically thanked the men for me, and as they left, I began to stride angrily to where the horses awaited us, heedless of the fact that my boots were completely filled with water. "Lord Éomer!" she called after me, obviously running to catch up to me. "Are you wroth with me?"

"Why should I be wroth, Lady Lothíriel? I have been humiliated only thrice this day, twice in front of you and once in front of them!" I shouted, gesturing over my shoulder at the men who were yet walking back to the docks.

"It is not as if I wished to fall into the river!" she shouted back at me, reminding me much of Éowyn just then. "And it is not as if I needed you to leap in after me, playing the hero! You are insufferable!"

"As are you! I know not what I ever saw in you, for you are spoiled and vain!"

Her stride did not slow as she questioned me in a shrill voice. "Spoiled and vain?! You, sir, are the most prideful, arrogant, mean. . . ."

"Mean? Whenever was I mean to you?"

"You made jest of Roäc yesterday! That was mean!"

"No, that was truth!" I shouted.

"Since you seem so fond of the truth, Lord Éomer, hear this!" she cried as we reached our mounts. "I detest quince tartlets!" Without another word, she managed to drag herself and her dripping-wet dress onto Roäc's back and begin to canter away as I snorted in derision, yanking the blanket from the ground, folding it hastily and then mounted Firefoot. Though Lothíriel was not riding at a particularly fast pace, I refused to join her, but I would not pass her, for though I was angry, I would not allow her to leave me behind today.

Soon, it seemed that she was playing a game with me, for Roäc's gait grew slower and slower until eventually he was barely moving at all, and Firefoot danced under me, confused by what I was doing as I strove to yet remain behind her.

"You are an infuriating woman!" I finally spat at her, pulling Firefoot even with her gelding.

She looked at me with a haughty expression upon her face. "Think you so?" she inquired, and I saw her lips curl upwards in the beginnings of smile. Our argument had grown so ludicrous that neither of us could keep a straight face, but I had to get one last jibe in. "Perhaps you can show me again what this tiny Gondorian horse is capable of," I growled, bringing the flat of my hand down upon Roäc's hindquarters, causing the gelding to leap forward in surprise, taking Lothíriel with him as she allowed him to slip into a gallop. She glanced back at me once, her face beaming. Grinning myself, I joined her with a spirited shout as we raced back to Minas Tirith to dry ourselves.