A/N: This is the last time I am going to say this: I KNOW EOMER IS SUPPOSED TO MARRY LOTHIRIEL! It will be addressed, I promise. Until then, shut your faces.

ANYWAY, back to the story (my story, may I remind you)

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I was not pleased when I was awoken in the middle of the night and forced to drink a foul herb concoction. Neither was I pleased to find myself all but tied to my bed for the next two days. When Eowyn finally came to fetch me for our trip, I was ecstatic and more than ready to go.

The journey itself was, thankfully, quite uneventful, but I still felt woozy and tired from time to time. I rode or walked, giving children the chance to ride Liadan while Eowyn and I chatted with their mothers. I learned several songs in Rohirric and could even carry on a small conversation for a few minutes before bogging down and resorting to English (or Westron, as they called it). It was alright, since they mostly used Westron, anyway.

When we arrived at Dunharrow two days later, soldiers bowed to Eowyn and stared at me in confusion until Eowyn gave them my name. Then they bowed. (Theoden had sent heralds out proclaiming Eomer's marriage to me, but obviously only the folk from Edoras had any idea of what I looked like).

In Dunharrow, I continued my education in archery, staffwork, and knives. Soon I could hold my own against more than half of my opponents, especially with knives and archery. There was simply too much room for brute force with the staff, although I got very good and deflecting blows rather than blocking them straight-on.

We stayed at Dunharrow for more than two weeks. I tried not to worry. Eomer had said three weeks, but he couldn't know that for sure. They were probably fine. Even so, I found myself becoming a bit crankier and more irritable than usual from worry.

Also, the after-effects from my concussion still hadn't gone away. I still had headaches and got sick and dizzy sometimes and got tired long before I was supposed to. This didn't help my mood any, needless to say. It also kind of scared me. For the first time I realized how very much in danger I could be in this place. What if there was something seriously wrong with my head? Brain surgery wasn't exactly an option.

One afternoon, Eowyn and the other women were desperately trying not to laugh and my feeble attempts at embroidery when a maid rushed in, grinning from ear to ear.

"They're back!" she cried. "Come quickly!"

I threw my embroidery to the ground and rushed outside, ignoring my hair as it whipped around my face. With a frown I noted a band of warriors that were not our own. In fact, they all bore a remarkable resemblance to Aragorn. Sure enough, Aragorn was in their midst, talking and laughing as if with family.

At the head of the procession rode Theoden and Eomer, looking filthy and worn out but otherwise fine. Eomer dismounted in the courtyard and smiled up at me. I grinned and waited as he climbed the steps toward me. He embraced me tightly and then held me at arm's length, looking me over. I did the same, noting a slice on his cheek that hadn't been there before he left.

"What is this?" he asked with a frown, brushing his fingers lightly over the fading scab and bruise that peeked out from my hairline.

"Um..."

"Does it have anything to do with why you're at Dunharrow and not at Edoras?" he asked, brows snapping together.

"Yes," I answered, wondering if he'd be angry.

"They actually broke into the city?" Eomer grabbed my arm. "Was anyone badly hurt?"

"Oh, well—they didn't actually get into the city--"

Eomer stared at me in horror. "You didn't--"

I fidgeted anxiously. "Um--"

"She did," Eowyn declared, striding over. "And she fought beautifully."

"Your lady is quite good with a bow and knives, my lord," a soldier added. Everyone had come to greet the returning soldiers.

"Eomer--?" I peered up at him worriedly.

"Don't look at me like that," Eomer sighed. "I'm too tired to be angry with you."

"Oh, good." I called Freda over and told her to draw up a bath, ignoring Eomer's protests.

"Sky, I need a bed, not a bath," Eomer grumbled.

"Too bad," I said flatly. "You are not going to touch my bed smelling like that."

Eomer looked startled for a moment, then laughed and let me tug him toward my—our—room, where food had been set out. Maids bustled in and out with buckets of hot water. As we sat down to eat, I noticed that he sat down very carefully.

"Eomer, were you injured?" I asked.

He nodded. "I took a wound in the side—nothing serious, but...uncomfortable. What of your head? What happened?"

"Wild Men attacked while we were training and Eowyn told me to come with her...before you say anything, our men were badly outnumbered and likely needed all the help they could get."

"Still," Eomer insisted. "How much training did you have? You could have been killed!"

"I know," I said, hanging my head. "I was terrified. I was shooting from atop a hill but then my arrows ran out and I had to use my knives. And then someone whacked me in the head with a staff."

Eomer shook his head. "It was a foolish thing to do."

"Perhaps, but I did help," I said defensively. "If I were a boy, you'd yell at me if I hadn't gone, training or no."

"But you're not a boy," Eomer said with a scowl. "You're my wife. My very small wife."

"Your bath is ready, my lord," Freda said with a curtsy, and took our plates.

"I'm not that small," I muttered mutinously.

Grumbling, Eomer went to take his bath and I played my flute for a little bit before Eomer called from the bathtub. For a moment I heard my father's voice, calling for shampoo. Blinking away tears, I went and stood in the doorway to see Eomer vainly twisting and turning, trying to scrub his back. I could see the nasty, stitched up wound in his side pulling as he did so.

Eomer looked over his shoulder at me sheepishly. "Would you mind--"

"Only if you promise not to yell at me any more," I said firmly, taking the wash cloth from him.

"I wasn't yelling at you," Eomer protested.

"You were chastising me."

"With good reason!"

"Fine, then, scrub your own back," I snapped, temper flaring.

"Alright, alright!" Eomer sighed. "Evil woman."

I smirked and scrubbed his back clean of dirt, grime, and no small amount of blood. I began to feel sick again and had to stop and lean over until the wave of nausea passed.

"Are you alright?" Eomer asked, concerned.

"I just felt sick for a moment, that's all," I assured him, patting his shoulder, which was rock hard. "Christ, man, your back is like a slab of granite. Loosen up!"

"What?" Right. Note to self: don't use slang.

"Relax," I said, massaging his shoulders and back with my knuckles.

"Mm," he murmured. "What are you doing?"

"Once your muscles relax enough for me to find a knot, I'm going to get the knots out of your back," I grunted.

"Knots? What do you mean?"

"Always asking questions," I laughed. "I'll explain it to you later, just relax!"

With a sigh, he did so. I got a bunch of the knots out, but there were simply too many to get them all. But then, he did lead a fairly stressful life style what with riding around like a bat out of hell and killing things all day. When I was done (when my hands were about to fall off) I left him to dry off and took the opportunity to change into a nightgown and get into bed. I sat there for a moment, biting my lip and twiddling my thumbs. I was kind of worried about the whole "married couple" thing being awkward now that my husband was actually around.

When he came out, he was only half dressed and had a rather roguish grin on his face. I raised an eyebrow, ignoring the fluttery feeling in my chest and the little voice in my head saying, hell, yes!

"Weren't you about to fall asleep a moment ago?" I asked.

"I'm not anymore," he said, leaning against the door frame. "I'm beginning to see what the older men have been talking about. It's rather nice having a bed and a woman to come home to after three weeks of fighting."

"We're not at home," I pointed out, and swallowed nervously. My heart was starting to race. "But, you know...there's still the bed and—and the woman..."

"Aye," Eomer agreed, and advanced. Leaning over me, he smoothed my hair back and asked, "Did you miss me, Sky?"

"Yes," I whispered. "I swore that I'd never complain about being married again if you came back safely."

"I have come back," he said in my ear. I gulped again. He was quite—quite close. "Safe and sound. Shall I prove it to you?"

"Uh...yeah. That'd be great."

I could have smacked myself. 'That would be great'? Kee-rist, I say the most moronic things at the worst times...oh, well. Eomer didn't seem to mind.

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The next morning, I woke up extremely warm and—whoa, hello! What—oh, yes. Husband. Right. It was extremely disconcerting yet strangely exciting in that warm, tingly sort of way to wake up and find yourself cradled in someone's arms—a man's arms. Somehow I think 'warm and tingly' would not be the words I'd use to describe waking up in a girl's arms.

I shivered slightly and snuggled closer, glad that he was still asleep. This was nice. I didn't want it to end, necessarily, but I didn't really want him awake, either. I didn't want to say something stupid again. Soon, however, he began to stir. I lay still, wondering if I should pretend to be asleep. No such luck. My eyes, seemingly of their own accord, drifted upward to meet his.

Eomer's arms tightened about me and he murmured sleepily, "Good morning."

"Good morning," I answered with a smile. "Are you going to rush off to another battle this time?"

"Not for a few more days, I should think," Eomer said ruefully.

"A few days!"

"Minas Tirith in Gondor is beset by Sauron's forces," Eomer said heavily. "They are badly in need of aid. As soon as we rally all the fighters we can, we will leave. Aragorn and his men will leave the day after tomorrow...he goes on a path where we may not follow."

"Why?" I asked curiously.

"He means to travel the Paths of the Dead." From the look on Eomer's face, I gathered that this was not good news.

"Oh..." I have no idea what you're talking about, but hey, that's alright. "Will Eowyn and I stay here or go back to Edoras?"

"Here, probably," Eomer said. "It's more defensible."

"Are you going to leave men behind to defend it?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

Eomer frowned and sighed. "Honestly, I don't know if we can afford to."

"Well, we'll just hope everyone is fighting in Gondor like you," I said, trying to keep my voice light.

Eomer smiled. "I'm just glad you're not begging me to come and fight, which is what I'm sure Eowyn will be doing the minute I step out of this room."

"Yeah, well, Eowyn's touched in the head," I said with a snort. "That once was enough for me, thank you."

"You cannot conceive how much better that makes me feel," Eomer told me, laughing into my hair. "I don't think I could handle two blood-thirsty hoydens in my life."

"Oh, I wouldn't have gone at all if Eowyn hadn't told me to," I said fervently.

"Do you do everything Eowyn tells you to?" Eomer asked with a smile.

"More or less," I said ruefully. "It's not exactly easy to tell her no."

"That's because she's a stubborn pig," Eomer said with a grimace.

"I'm going to tell her you said that, you know."

"You are welcome to," Eomer said, eyes dancing. "Tis nothing I haven't told her myself."

"You're such a wonderful older brother," I laughed.

"Did you have any siblings?" he asked.

"Three older brothers—and Abbi...she was my cousin, but she was like a sister to me," I sighed. "She lived with us and everything."

"What of her own family? Surely they did not send her away?" Eomer asked, puzzled.

"Her parents died when we were young," I explained. "And my own mother—her father's sister--had died recently, so everyone decided it was for the best that she live with us."

"Everyone?"

I smiled sadly. "My father's side of the family is—um, very prolific. He's got three sisters and four brothers and each of them has three or four kids of their own. They all live near us—sometimes it seems they live with us. Kind of like living in a rabbit warren, really."

Eomer laughed. "Do you expect to have so many children?"

My smile faded. This would be the ideal time to remind him of his uncle's promise to help me get home as soon as I provided an heir. Or maybe not so ideal, what with his arms being around me...and we'd been having such a nice conversation.

"Sky--"

"Let's take this one step at a time, shall we?" I said lightly, smiling up at him. "Like getting out of bed, for instance."

I pulled on the nightgown that had been...discarded the night before and padded across the room to pull a pair of trousers and a shirt from a trunk. Slipping into the other room, I changed and found Eomer dressed much as I was and frowning at me.

"What are you wearing those for?" he asked, sounding more curious than cross.

I raised an eyebrow. "Tis fair difficult to fight in a skirt, milord."

"Fight?" Eomer asked, brows snapping together. "Fight who?"

"Eamon, Tholren, even Hafrin spars with me sometimes--"

Eomer didn't look pleased, but didn't argue as I took up my bow and knives and walked with him down to the practice yards. Eowyn was already there, sparring with a soldier I didn't know. Tholren looked up and called out his usual greeting and promise to plant my behind in the dirt and then faltered, seeing Eomer behind me.

"Beg pardon, my lord," he muttered, turning beet red.

"So," I said briskly, "Who's first?"

"Me." Eomer stepped in front of me and crossed his arms.

I looked at him uncertainly. "You?"

"Yes."

I swallowed. Somehow I had a feeling I'd end up in the dirt more quickly than usual. Pushing my nervousness aside, I flashed him a grin. "With knives, then. You'd crush me with a staff, you great brute."

I drew two knives and saw a flicker of surprise in Eomer's eyes as he drew two as well. Many soldiers didn't use knives much at all, and then only one, so I guess surprise was understandable. As we began to spar, I began to feel more sure of myself. Eomer could use two, but he relied on his right hand, using his left only to block occasionally. I, freak of nature that I am, had been blessed with ambidexterity. Abbi had a photographic memory, which I'd always envied, but that's beside the point. The point is that we were both freaky pieces of work and you should be afraid. Very afraid. Grrr.

To my shock, I suddenly found an opening and disarmed his right hand, slipping under his guard and holding my knife to his throat. His eyes flicked down and up again, wide with surprise, then he grinned and stepped back.

"I yield," he said. "Sky, that was amazing! You've only been learning for a month."

"I'm a freak of nature," I said with a grin. "And anyway, I doubt knives are your best weapons."

"No, but I'm not incompetent, either," he said seriously. He flashed me one of his sudden, bright smiles. "I don't feel quite so uneasy leaving you here, now."

"I wish my son could use knives as well as she does," commented one of the soldiers, and everyone laughed.

I spent the rest of the morning practicing and having my arse planted in the dirt—but it happened significantly less frequently than when I'd first started. Aragorn and Legolas even sparred with me. Legolas completely kicked my ass, but Aragorn assured me that he'd been fighting for hundreds of years and that I shouldn't worry about it.

After everyone had gotten a decent workout, we all headed back to the castle for some food and then I went for a ride with Eomer, Eowyn, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and a funny little man named Merry. He was a hobbit, he told me. Not to be confused with a dwarf. He was smaller than Gimli, with curly brown hair on his feet as well as his head and bright brown eyes. I thought he was adorable.

Aragorn and his friends told me about some of their adventures and how Gandalf had apparently died and been reborn somehow. It was all very confusing. One thing, however, was clear: Eowyn had a crush on Aragorn. An enormous one. I hadn't noticed the last time I saw them together because of the whole getting married thing, but now it was as clear as daylight. It was completely understandable. Aragorn had the 'dark and mysterious' thing down pat and was really handsome under the stubble that never seemed to go away. He wasn't quite as powerful-looking as Eomer was, but you could tell that Aragorn was no weakling. In all, I thought Aragorn was a great catch.

At dinner that night, I found myself seated between Eomer and Theoden. Eomer was talking animatedly with Hafrin on his other side, so I ate silently, mulling over the Eowyn-Aragorn issue until Theoden interrupted my thoughts.

"I heard that you beat my nephew today in the training yards," he commented casually.

I glanced up at him, not sure if he was angry or not. "Merely a bit of luck, my lord."

"T'was more than that, according to Hammond," Theoden disagreed. "And after only a month of training."

"I've always been able to use both my hands equally," I told him. "I had an advantage he did not."

"Still," Theoden insisted. "It is impressive."

There was a pause, and then Theoden abruptly spoke again. "I'm not sorry for what I did, Sky, but I am sorry for the distress it caused you. I never wanted to make you unhappy."

"I know," I said. "I just...I always thought that I would choose my own husband and get married when I was ready. But Eomer is a good man and I'm content with him."

Theoden nodded and looked at me closely. "I'm glad to hear that. But tell me: are you happy?"

I opened my mouth and then shut it again. For a moment I wasn't sure what to say. When I answered, I was surprised. "Yes. Yes, I believe I am." However, this brought me no joy. I brooded over it all through dinner and lay in bed staring at the ceiling while Eomer read through some report.

When he lay down beside me and blew out the candle, I asked, "Eomer? Is it wrong to be happy when you know that the ones you love are suffering because of you?"

"Not if there's nothing you can do to ease their suffering," Eomer replied. "Your suffering cannot ease or take away theirs. If anything, I would think that it would make them feel better to know that you are happy."

"But...they have no idea where I am," I whispered. "For all they know, I'm dead. Like Abbi. God, what kind of person am I? Abbi's been dead barely a month and here I am, married and having a grand old time. My family must be miserable and I'm happier than--"

"Happier than what?" Eomer asked tentatively.

"Happier than I've ever been in my life," I breathed. He didn't say anything, so I went on, explaining it to myself as well as to him, it seemed. "I've been happier in these past few weeks than I ever was at home. This place—the land, the people, everything—seems to fit in a way home never did. Like I was missing something and didn't realize it until I came here."

"Sky," Eomer said, touching my hand. "You had no say in any of this. There's nothing you can do, so why fight it? If you can be happy after everything that's happened to you, I don't think you should push it away."

"I could be trying to find the stone circle," I said. "I could be trying to go home."

"Do you really want to?" Eomer asked softly.

"Of course I do," I told him. "Of course I want to go home."