A/N: Since it has been so very, very long since I have updated this story, here is a summary of what's happened so far:

Éowyn, Faramir, Lothíriel, and Imrahilreturn to Minas Tirith from the River Poros, so Faramir can further recover from his injuries and spend some time with his pregnant wife. Éomer came to visit from Edoras at the behest of Éowyn.

Lothíriel informs Imrahil that shewishes to be married, and Imrahil suggests Éomer as a possibility for a husband. Try as they might, though, Éomer and Lothíriel cannot seem toget along very well.

Meanwhile, Éowyn becomes very moody, claiming that she thinks Faramir cares more about his unborn son than he does for her. When Éowyn comes down with a fever and loses the baby, she decides that she no longer wants her husband near her and demands that he leave her sickroom. Faramir, in an attempt to make her change her mind, informs her that he is leaving Minas Tirith, but to his chagrin, she agrees, showing little emotion about his impending departure.

Faramir and Imrahil leave Minas Tirith for the River Poros as Faramir hopes that he might help Aragorn until Éowyn calls him back to her side. When Éomer finds out a short time later that Faramir has left town, he and his men saddle up and follow after him. Lothíriel, fearing for Faramir's safety from the King of Rohan's wrath, chases after the Rohirrim by herself.

Faramir and Imrahil arrive at the River Poros camp and Aragorn is shocked and confused about what's happened between his steward and Éowyn, but does not press Faramir for too much information because the steward is on the verge of physical and mental collapse. The king almost immediately drugs Faramir, trying to force him to rest. Éomer and his guards stop in Pelargir in search of some ale, and he finds himself separated from his riders and pressed into enduring a night of hospitality at the Steward of Pelargir's palace. Lothíriel arrives in the city a short time later, her appearance in complete disarray. Unable to enter the better neighborhoods of Pelargir since she is mistaken for a thief and a harlot, the princess luckily runs across a Haradrim man named Zaim Ghazi who offers her the hospitality of his household and the companionship of his four wives

I think that's it. :)

And now, here's chapter 12.


Faramir

I could not recall lying down, and I was briefly alarmed when I awakened in unfamiliar surroundings before I remembered that it was Aragorn's own camp bed on which I rested. Glancing around nervously and silently cursing my own weakness, I was both surprised and relieved to find myself alone in the large pavilion. It was dark outside, but some lamps had been lit, and I shuddered, thinking how deeply I must have been sleeping not to have heard anyone moving about me. From the deep quiet of the camp, I knew it must have been very late. I sat up gingerly, quietly cursing my sore muscles, my abominably aching head. I would slip out, hopefully unnoticed and find a private tent of my own in which to rest.

But, though I was loath to remain there, in truth, I was not feeling well at all, and to rest was much more preferable to going out and risking collapsing in front of the soldiers as I had done the last time I had been in this camp. I did not have Éowyn to rescue me from myself this time; I had to be careful. The familiar pain returned to my breast as her last cold words to me echoed within my tortured mind. Cautiously moving to the table upon which Aragorn had spread his maps, I spied ink and blank parchment, and I felt compelled to write a letter to my wife, hoping the king would not mind my borrowing his correspondence supplies in addition to his bed.

After a moment of staring at the blank page and wondering where I should begin, I resolved myself to my task and began to write:


To my wife, Éowyn,

I told you that I would inform you when I had settled into my temporary home, and I am as much atease now as I can be under the circumstances. I am certain that it shall not cheer you to learn that I am again at the River Poros with the king.


I was not happy with my terse words nor with my shaky handwriting, but Éowyn deserved to know where I had ended my forced withdrawal from her, though it was unclear to me now whether it was she or I who had actually forced it. It saddened me that never before had I looked upon writing a letter to my wife as a chore, but it felt like it this time. When I had finished, I read over the one paragraph, noting the short, clipped manner in which I wrote, the anger and frustration that were both apparent in my words. But as much as I thought that I should change my words to make the tone softer, I could not. Éowyn deserved to know exactly how I felt. With a sigh, I signed my name at the bottom and then folded the letter before locating some wax and melting some upon the junction of the parchment. Lastly, I pressed the Ring of the Stewards into it and then set it aside to give to a messenger later.

It was not very surprising to me that Aragorn entered the pavilion then, though from the expression upon his face, I could tell that he had expected to find me yet sleeping, and he said as much. "How fare you?" he continued, and out of courtesy I did not wish to answer him because I did not wish to complain to him. Sitting opposite me at the table, he repeated his question, his tone gentle yet insistent.

"It matters not, Aragorn," I muttered, not daring to meet his eyes.

"Faramir," he commanded in his most kingly voice, "I would know how you fare this night."

If he truly wished to know, I would tell him. I finally raised my eyes to his face and spoke. "I am unwell, my lord, and not likely to be better any time soon," I answered obediently, though in a surly tone. I felt anger rising within me, but I did not stop it as I continued. "I physically ache, and my head is beating like a drum, though the pain cannot compare to that within my soul, which is beyond the telling." I stood shakily as my voice rose. "I cannot bear this, Aragorn! This waiting, this insufferable waiting, it cannot continue much longer, or I do not know what I shall do!"

"Faramir . . ."

"As if the baby were not enough! She has torn my very heart from my chest . . ."

"Peace, Faramir!" The king's voice forcefully interrupted my tirade, before it became gentle once more. "You are overwrought, my friend. Whatever has caused this rift between you cannot last, for you two need one another."

"I fear that the lady no longer has any need of me, Aragorn, and unless something changes soon, I shall walk alone for the rest of my days!"

"You speak foolishly, Faramir," he said softly, though I could sense anger couched in his words. "Give your lady wife a little more time. I cannot believe she will fail you in the end."

"Forgive me, Aragorn," I murmured, bowing my head, uncertain if he was wroth with me. "I should not have burdened you with this."

"Nonsense. Now, sit. I have some work for you if you feel up to it."

I looked again to the king's face. "In the middle of the night?"

"I have not been sleeping well either. However, if you would rather return to your rest, I would not stop you."

"Nay, my lord, I will serve you in whatever manner you require," I told him, finally resuming my seat.

"Fine," he said. "I need you to catalog my maps for me. I cannot keep them all organized, and I need a better system to manage them while I remain here. Will you do it?"

I was confused by his request as I knew that there were others who served the king in a clerical capacity, and he knew full well how disorganized my own rooms were. But the look in his eye was one of faint wistfulness, so I shrugged off the feeling of inferiority and nodded my assent.

"Thank you," he said before he added, "I shall have some tea brought for us to help us through the remainder of this long night."

"As you wish, Aragorn," I replied, glad for something to do besides dwelling on my own sorry state of affairs.


Éomer

Though the accommodations in Abad-en-Arahir were very comfortable, I did not sleep well, instead spending most of the night peering through the window which overlooked the front of the immense property. I wondered at the several companies of guards that were marching up and down the street, Rath Elendili, before the palace. It occurred to me that Lord Holmar must be a very suspicious ruler to keep such heavy guard in a quarter of the city that seemed to be already very secure.

Even more odd, especially for someone who seemed so interested in his own safety, was the steady stream of visitors that were ushered through the front gates throughout the long night. Most of them simply entered the gardens, spoke shortly with the guards and then departed, but a few were actually admitted to the palace, and I was more than a little surprised to see so many men who looked little better than common street thugs come and go. It was obvious to me that Holmar, Lord Steward of Pelargir and Provincial Steward of Lebennin, was involved in some underhanded dealings with the criminal element of the city.

If I had any inkling of where Holmar's meeting rooms were in relation to my bed chamber, I would have tried to get close enough to eavesdrop, but as it was, I could do little but plan what I would do when next I met with the man.

When dawn finally arrived, I was already fully dressed, and I decided to take it upon myself to find some breakfast for myself while at the same time learning anything I could about this enormous and strange place. Quietly I stepped into the corridor, relieved and somewhat amazed not to find a guard posted outside of my door. I chose to walk in the direction that I had not been yet and slipped down the hallway as silently as my riding boots would allow. All of the doors along the hallway were closed, and I wondered if other guests of state lay behind them, drowsing in the early morning light. I decided to find out.

I opened several of the doors, finding no one and nothing of interest behind any of them before I heard footsteps approaching, and as I softly closed the last door, I turned and began walking toward the sound, attempting to look as innocent and lost as I could muster. When the guard rounded the corner and saw me, he started, asking me what I thought I was doing wandering the halls unaccompanied.

"What a pack of layabouts there is in this city!" I roared. "I have been awake for hours awaiting someone to fetch me to break my fast and yet I remain hungry. Was I simply to sit in my room awaiting starvation?"

The guard's attitude changed tremendously as he faced the wrath of the King of the Mark, and I was immensely cheered to see him almost cowering before me in his fancy plate armor. "I was unaware that you wanted to eat so early, my lord. No one informed us of your preferences."

"My preferences haven't seemed to matter here since I arrived, but I will eat now."

"Yes, my lord. Please, follow me."

I followed the meek fellow back the way I had originally come, passing my own door before turning to descend the wide stairway that marked the center of the immense palace. After only a couple more minutes of walking, I found myself in a cavernous dining hall furnished with long tables surrounded by chairs that could easily have seated two hundred people. One long wall faced the outside of the building, and through the immense windows that spanned the entire length, I looked at a wide expanse of the harbor and the Barad Aerhir that jutted from the center of it. It was an impressive sight, and I was slightly disappointed when the guard showed me to a seat near a fireplace along the opposite wall instead of one close to the windows. Begging my forgiveness, the guard explained that he needed to tell the cooks that I was ready to eat. I waved my hand disinterestedly at him as he departed, but the moment he had passed out of the room, I stood and trotted to the next doorway, to see what lay behind it.

Within was a wide corridor, much wider than the one where we had been walking before, and I was heartened to find a place that I recognized, as this was the entrance hall to the palace. Lord Holmar's official rooms were not far from here, and I decided to find the man, determined to find out the secrets that he hid within these thick marble walls. I decided the best way to reach my destination was to stride confidently as if I belonged there. It was not difficult for me.

Passing a few guards posted within the hallways, no one stopped me, and when I reached the door to the throne room, I found it unguarded. I realized he might not be out of bed yet, especially with all the strange visitors he entertained in the night, but I really wanted to find him, so I entered the room and moved straight to the door behind the throne where I knew his antechamber would lie. Still there were no guards.

Inside the antechamber there was a lone guard, who looked surprised to see me, stationed beside a door that I assumed led to Holmar's office. "I am looking for Lord Holmar. I was told I might find him in his office."

"He is not to be disturbed, my lord," replied the guard, but I would not be put off so easily.

"I was to join him for breakfast this morning, but the food grows cold and still I see no sign of the steward. Am I to be kept waiting all day? I am the King of Rohan! I demand to see him . . . NOW!"

The guard looked stunned, but there was a slight commotion inside the door, and then it opened and Lord Holmar was peering out at me with his usual sour expression upon his face. "King Éomer, good morning," he said, coming into the antechamber and closing the door behind him. "I trust you slept well."

"I did not."

The Steward of Pelargir looked uncomfortable and seemed uncertain of what he could do to placate me. I was glad to see it, since he had caused me naught but trouble thus far. "Have you partaken of our excellent cooks' morning meal yet?"

"I would have thought you could have heard me bellowing through the door, Lord Steward. I have not. I do not like to be kept waiting for my meals."

"Of course not." He attempted to smile but it was little more than a weak grimace. For such a rich and powerful man, I could not understand how he could be so damnably unhappy all of the time. He gestured toward the doorway that led back to the corridor and even opened it for me. After I had passed through, I assumed my most regal stride, silently daring him to keep up with me. He was nearly panting when we arrived back in the dining hall.

My guard was standing near where he had left me, looking more than a little anxious at my disappearance. He rushed forth when he spied me with the steward, apologizing to his lord for losing track of me, and I could do naught but smile at his discomfiture as the little man escorted us to our table before assuming a stance a few paces away from us.

I assumed my seat and the steward took the one across from me, eyeing me with more than a little disdain upon his weak features. I had no chance to speak before the kitchen door opened and a line of serving girls entered the hall, bearing trays of all manner of foods, some familiar, some not. I did not wait for them to serve me as I helped myself to several of the boiled eggs that were piled upon the platter closest to me. Lord Holmar looked a little sickened, and I asked him if he was ill.

"No, my lord. I just do not usually partake of food so early in the day."

I chuckled at his discomfort. "Why not? Breakfast is the best meal!"

"Hmm, yes," he mumbled, watching me shovel food into my mouth.

"I wanted to ask you about something," I said, changing the subject abruptly as I reached for the honey cakes.

"What is it?" he asked, picking up a piece of bread and tearing off a corner.

"What are you afraid of here in your closely-guarded palace in your closely-guarded quarter? You have enough guards marching through these fancy streets to guard the entire city of Minas Tirith, I deem."

He was shocked by my question and did not bother trying to hide it. "Hmm, war is always a distinct possibility in this area of Gondor. We must remain ever vigilant for attack from the south."

"Oh? Are you expecting someone specific?" I asked between mouthfuls of jugged hare.

He cleared his throat noncommitally before taking a sip of wine. "The happenings in Pelargir and more specifically, Neldëlendin, are none of your affair, my lord."

I slammed my fist upon the tabletop, upsetting his wine and causing him to jump in the process. "It is my affair if I'm here when it is attacked!" I shouted, hoping that he might see my point of view.

"Very true," he finally managed to say. "But no one is holding you here. You are free to continue your journey to the river."

I could not go now. My curiosity needed satisfaction, and if it turned out that his secretiveness was apt to lead to yet more problems for Gondor, I could depart then, taking word to Aragorn with all haste. I sat back in my chair, still eating an egg as I appraised him. "I think I would like to stay a while," I said smugly, crossing my arms across my chest. "Your hospitality is to my liking after all."

For a moment I thought he might object, but then he remembered his precious reputation and closed his mouth. Standing abruptly, obviously finished with breakfast and with me, he spoke. "If I happen to hear anything that might concern you, I shall send word to you. Good day, Lord Éomer." Without another word or even a glance back at me, he left the room to tend to the affairs of his city, I assumed.

I would have laughed at the ridiculousness of his behavior if I had not been so concerned by the fear I had spied in his grey eyes.


Lothíriel

I was awakened from my languid sleep by someone gently shaking me. When I opened my eyes, I found Aisha smiling down upon me, her veil absent for the nonce. She was a beautiful young woman, and I smiled at her and sat up, bidding her a good morning. The other women were awake as well, gathered upon the floor in the center of the chamber, sharing a large platter of fruit amongst themselves. The eldest of them, Hafsah, waved me over with a smile and I joined them for breakfast.

Zaim's first three wives were having an animated conversation amongst themselves in Haradaic, and Aisha translated some of it for me. I was amused to find that these women, whose culture was so very different from my own, were not so very different from me, as they discussed fashion and made plans to visit the huge market that had lately been springing up daily at the Fiddler's Green, the only public park of size in the whole of Pelargir. When they mentioned some of the prices they had found there for silken cloth and gold jewelry, I begged to be allowed to come with them. Though I knew I should return straightaway to Minas Tirith, I was certain that a day or so here would not make that much difference in the punishment I would receive when it was widely learned what I had foolishly done.

The wives seemed amused by my enthusiasm and readily agreed though I had to promise to wear a veil over my face in public, else I would be seen as a maiden of marriageable age, and I would necessarily require an escort. I agreed to their condition, and Aisha showed me the proper way to drape the fluid fabric over my face. I paused before we departed to admire myself in their looking glass, enamored of the mysterious air that the veil and unfamiliar clothing lent to me, and brainlessly I wondered what Lord Éomer might think of such an outfit.

Laughing, we filed into the street and walked northeasterly toward the Fiddler's Green, and I reveled in how free it felt to be walking safely through the streets of this place, accompanied only by other women who seemed completely at ease in their surroundings.

The market itself was amazing in the array of fine goods that it offered, and the prices were very good by Gondorian standards. I wished that I had brought more money, though I had enough left in my purse to purchase a bolt of diaphanous emerald green silk that I knew would be more than enough fabric to create a fantastic gown with which to attract men to me at the next state cotillion in Dol Amroth. I was happy when Hafsah stepped in to strike a good bargain for me, and she managed to drive the price down to almost half of what I had been willing to pay.

While gathering up my purchase, intending to merely follow the others for the remainder of our time there and enjoy myself, I thought I saw a tall man dressed in the uniform of a Rider of Rohan. As he was not mounted, I thought it highly unlikely that I had seen what I thought, but curiosity drove me to seek him out. Slowly I walked toward his position, careful to try to appear nonchalant so I would not draw attention to myself.

When I drew quite close to the man, he suddenly turned my way, and I immediately recognized his face. It was Ingmar, one of Lord Éomer's personal guards. I knew for certain that the King of Rohan was indeed in Pelargir then, and I glanced about me, wondering if he was nearby. When Ingmar began to walk toward me, I was certain that he had somehow recognized me in my strange southern garb, but he stepped by me without a second glance, and I felt triumphant that I would not have to face a scolding on this day at least.

Beyond that small victory, I was offered hope that for as long as he remained in the city, Lord Éomer himself might be able to take charge of my safety, thus saving me from a tongue-lashing by my father. With a smile, I returned to my friends, keeping my eyes open for any signs of the king during the remainder of the day.