Thank you all to my reviewers! You have no idea how happy they have made me that you are all enjoying my story so far. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and I thank you for taking the time to read. Please review, and feel free to tell me any thoughts you have.

Katzilla: Thank you, thank you, and thank you! I absolutely adore your stories and all the angst, so don't stop! Lol. I'm glad you enjoyed reading! I hope this chapter is just as good, I'm eager to see what you think of it:)

Axa: Thank you, I'm happy to hear that my style of writing is good. It's so hard to try and write something that is as good as Tolkien! I hope you enjoy the next installment.

Kia: Thank you for the review and praise. I am glad you are enjoying my writing style. Wonderful!

Sarah: I'm glad you liked reading Éothain, I had so much fun writing him. :) He will be more in this story in the future chapters, but not this one so much. Thank you for the review!

Mexican Devil, LothirielofRohan, Rivendellwriter, fandun, Eokat, The Princess of Leaves, merrymagic, quizabella and Taima1: Thank you so much for all your praise. I was anxious to hear what you all had to say and am pleased that you all like it thus far. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!

-Mystikal(19)

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Éomer was awakened early the next morning by the sounds of his wife getting dressed. By the time he had forced his heavy eyelids open, her handmaiden had finished helping tie the laces of the back of her white gown and Lothíriel was brushing her hair, having dismissed the handmaiden she had brought from Dol Amroth who had been helping her since she was a child.

Éomer could see her face in the reflection of the mirror and stayed lied back, looking at the beautiful golden skin of his wife, glowing in the faint candlelight. Her eyes were on the floor absentmindedly, and Éomer appreciated the calmness of her stature. Her shoulders were still straight and tall, but her face was much more relaxed.

The long tresses Lothíriel brushed glimmered in the soft glowing candlelight and she did not notice her husband awake in bed, looking at her. Finally, their eyes locked in the mirror's reflection and Lothíriel put down the brush, turning at once with guilt prominent on her features. "I apologize, Éomer, for awakening you."

"Do not apologize," said Éomer at once, regretting spying on his wife while she was still not used to him, "It is time I awaken at any rate."

"You were so busy with council meetings- that I should have attended as well- and then you worked Rastus last night as well. You must be exhausted. Please, I will put out my light and you can return to sleep." Lothíriel made a move to put out the candle flickering while the sun just began to rise.

"No, continue with your hair. I enjoy watching you." Éomer caused Lothíriel a blush and he continued, "As for the councils that you did not attend, do not worry. It only was of minor details, such as the dates to send new recruits to the borders. Elfhelm and Erkenbrand deemed it best we get them to their stations as soon as possible."

Lothíriel nodded, the comprehension visible in her eyes surprising Éomer vaguely, but he said nothing.

"I saw you last night on the bluff above the training arena," Éomer broke the brief silence. Lothíriel nodded, turning back to the mirror to finish setting her hair with a rose her handmaiden had set out of her request. "I am pleased you went, and I hope you enjoyed yourself."

"I had a splendid time," Lothíriel provided earnestly. Yes, she was terrified of horses, but for understandable reasons. She still liked to look at the beautiful creatures, though. "Rastus is an exceptional horse."

"He is a Meara," Éomer said, and to clarify the look of confusion on the reflection of Lothíriel's face, "the same kind as Shadowfax."

"Oh," she said as she pinned the rose in a pulled back curl. She removed her hands from her hair and was pleased. Lothíriel stood, surveying herself in the mirror and when she was done, she turned to Éomer and smiled gently to him. "Please, go back to sleep. You look weary and I am done in here. It is barely sunrise."

The look on her face was so genuine and beautiful, Éomer could have denied her nothing. Nodding, he settled back into the large pillow, his heavy eyes already beginning to droop. Just when he was going to ask her where she was going, Lothíriel put out the light, slipped on some slippers, and slinked through the door, shutting it behind her silently. Éomer shook his head in Lothíriel's secrecy, noting that every morning they had together she was the first awake.

Another thing he would ask her family, Éomer decided. What exactly did Lady Lothíriel love to do so early in the morning? Finally, Éomer's eyes closed accepting the sleep that had been threatening to engulf him ever since his eyes had opened.

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"Why do you have to go so early?" Lothíriel demanded. She could not help her bottom lip pouting slightly as she looked to her brother, Elphir. Elphir's wife, Nienna was currently chasing their son Alphros on the grass in front of Meduseld as the little five-year-old shrieked in delight.

Alphros looked just like Elphir with his raven hair and dark eyes, his light colored skin in contrast looked much like Nienna. Elphir and Nienna appeared very majestic together, she with her topaz colored hair and ivory skin, and he with his charismatic smile and benevolent aura. Elphir had always been the brother that Lothíriel looked up to; strong-willed and studious; he was the son of Imrahil that had not stepped out of line since he was five. Erchirion had been the one who favored his sister most, the charmer, with his brown curls and alluring eyes while Amrothos had always been the amiable jokester, the one everyone avoided when he was in a remarkably excellent mood.

Elphir, beside his sister sighed and crossed his arms on his chest. "Because, Lothíriel," he told her patiently, "Dol Amroth needs one of her princes for the obligations that even a wedding cannot stop. Do not look at me like that, little sister, for if I do not leave, it would be Father."

Lothíriel looked at Elphir with indignation in her eyes prominently. "But how long will it be until I see you again, brother? Or Alphros and Nienna? I do not want to say goodbye yet."

The tears were on their way to Lothíriel's hazel eyes and Elphir knew that once they were streaming down her cheeks he would feel vile.

"Do not cry, Lothíriel," Elphir said as he tipped her chin up with his thumb. Lothíriel bit her lip and looked to her elder brother with such pain in her eyes that Elphir felt even worse. "You have still a night with me. We leave tomorrow."

Taking in shaky breaths, Lothíriel managed to regain her composure. "You are right, Elphir. It is just… I am fretful that after you depart, it will not be long until Father must leave. You do not think he shall stay here with me forever, do you?"

Elphir chuckled low under his breath and Lothíriel smiled in jest. "No, dear sister. However, letters are available to send, and I wish to return to Rohan when you too share the joy of a firstborn." Elphir's eyes reached Alphros and Nienna laughing in the sunlit grass several paces away.

Lothíriel felt her stomach turn but said nothing.

"Come; do not feel so forlorn on such a divine day. Allow your thoughts to leave the worries of the morrow and think of just this one moment of today. Tomorrow will come, sister, with distressing or not. Would it not be better to enjoy a day with your brother than to waste it with such thoughts?" Elphir asked.

"Of course," Lothíriel said as she managed a smile though her distress. How far could she stray from her fears becoming a reality was to be determined, but if she could help her brother enjoy his final stay at the land she was to rule henceforth, she would.

Watching Elphir joining his wife and son at their play, Lothíriel joined them shortly after. As Elphir grabbed Nienna in a bear hug and swung her body around his, Alphros shrieked in joy and Lothíriel picked him up to do the same to him. Before she knew it, Lothíriel had managed to throw the wicked thoughts to the back of her mind.

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Éomer was thinking about his conversation with Éothain the past night, pondering if he really should talk to Lothíriel's family about her likes and dislikes, and feeling even more ridiculous that he could not ask Lothíriel the same exact questions. Opening a door, it just so happened to lead into the most used sitting room for those living inside of the walls of Meduseld. Inside the room were Erchirion, Faramir, and Éowyn, all looking to Éomer when the door opened and closed behind him.

Cursing his luck, Éomer was about to leave when Éowyn spoke up.

"There you are brother," she called to him before he could make it out of the door. Éomer let his hand drop from the door handle and turned. "Come sit," Éowyn persisted.

Unable to reject the offer without initiating questions Éomer wished to avoid, he joined his guests. The three looked to him expectantly and Éomer could only look back bluntly, promising himself not to say anything that might be ill advised. Where was Gamling when he needed him?

"We were just talking of you, actually," Faramir spoke up. Éomer looked to him in question. The man who was now Éowyn's husband had never looked better. Éowyn's kindness had reflected upon his handsome face, banishing the gloom in his eyes his father had caused, and replacing it with the mirth that should have always been there.

"Were you?"

"Yes," Éowyn cut in effortlessly, settling into the conversation with the grace she had to embarrass her elder brother every time she got. Éomer decided he did not want to know why, but Éowyn continued nevertheless. "Éothain found me this morning and told me to remind you that you had something you wished to ask of Lothíriel's family."

Éomer began to feel agitated, wondering if he could muffle her voice, everyone would forget her words. He knew, however, it was too late.

"Erchirion is of Lothíriel's family," Éowyn continued with a knowing smile from the look intensifying on Éomer's face. "Why not ask him?"

Erchirion looked to Éomer in query. Éomer glared at Éowyn who merely smiled as she nestled into Faramir's chest and leaned her head back on the arm wrapped around her shoulders.

"What did you wish to know of my sister?" Erchirion asked as Éomer and Éowyn's cold war depleted. Éomer decided that it would be best just to ask, then to avoid the question and make an even more fool of himself.

"I would like to know," Éomer continued after a moment of pulling his thoughts together, "some things that Lothíriel enjoys…so I can make Rohan more fitting to her."

Erchirion nodded, his eyes so understanding that Éomer was surprised. "It does not amaze me seeing you still do not know much of my sister. You have not known one another for much time, and she is shy and demure; never bragging about her accomplishments and whatnot."

Éomer was pleased to hear that she did not only act as she had acted in front of him. Perhaps there was a breath of hope.

"That is why it is good that she has a brother whose mouth is as big as Amrothos' and a father who is as proud as Imrahil. Because neither is here of the moment, I shall take it in my own responsibility to tell you a trifle of her," Erchirion said.

Vaguely gratified, Éomer's anger at his sister melted away.

"Of the many qualities that agree with her, I believe that Lothíriel's most prominent is her ability to draw. She adores waking up early in the morning when she is anxious or fearful, and drawing the sun's quest rising. Many of her works are splendid, and I am not known to enjoy the beauty of such things, as you know," Erchirion said with a smile, "but even I cannot tell you that her works are anything less than exquisite."

Éomer thought immediately of her morning ventures before he was awake and was even more reassured that she did not leave because of him- or so he told himself.

"At the palace of Dol Amroth, Lothíriel had a room that my father set up for her, and it held within it inks, quills, and whatever else she wished to explore with on parchment," Erchirion finished. At once, Éowyn spoke again.

"Last night," she said, looking to Éomer, "Lothíriel drew a picture of you with Rastus and it was divine. I have never seen such a drawing than the one the parchment she had held! It seemed as if the drawing was in motion, and it was the exact replica of what my eyes saw."

"Lothíriel does not hate horses," Erchirion said, explaining the faintly surprised look upon Éomer's face, "she is just fearful of them. They are so enormous, and she is a petite woman. She thinks they are beautiful, from a distance."

Éomer was even more relieved to hear this. Perhaps there was still a chance to sway her mind that horses were not menacing. Éomer felt thankful of his sister and best friend's obsessively large mouths, and he decided to thank them when he spoke with them later.

The room was quiet for a moment before Faramir spoke.

"My cousin had always been timid as a child, but the War of the Ring has truly taken away even more of her spirit," said Faramir. Exchanging a glance with Erchirion as if asking for permission to speak of such things, Faramir continued. "While Elphir, Erchirion, Amrothos, and Imrahil ventured out to fight, Lothíriel stayed with her mother to help with the affairs of Dol Amroth."

Erchirion's eyes stared at the ground, his face hard and cold as he remembered the past events that had scarred them all, but his sister the most.

"My mother died when we were away during the War, and Lothíriel was left alone, not knowing if any of her family would survive the terrible times – not even knowing if she would survive," Erchirion finished.

The words brought a painful flash of memories of the experiences they had not so long ago found. The room was silent and Éomer felt daft for not realizing that she could still be suffering from the horrors everyone had had to witness whether they were men fighting, or women and children staying behind never knowing what befell their loved ones. It had been such a thing Éomer should have understood, as his own sister nearly fell victim to a war she should not have fought. He still experienced nightmares of finding her on the battlefield, seemingly dead.

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It was evening, and Lothíriel was dressing for the farewell feast for some of her wedding guests. Lothíriel knew she would cry when the night was over, but she did not know that she would start crying when she was getting dressed for the feast. Her handmaiden had been busily tying the threads on the back of her gown and talking, as Lothíriel surveyed the gown she was wearing.

The garb was one that Éowyn had picked out for her, truly something a Rohirrim Queen would wear, she had said. It was, too. The deep emerald color set off Lothíriel's complexion, and the golden details twisting up the bodice and spiraling on the shoulders was divine. The dress was large and reached the floor, a split down the front showing a creamy petticoat underneath. Lothíriel hoped that Éomer would approve.

When Lothíriel's hair had been twisted back in braids, several locks left near her temples, a crown had been placed upon her head. The crown was beautiful; golden and thin, with emerald diamonds congruently positioned on the diameter. It was not a cause for tears, but Lothíriel felt her eyes well up with water when the thoughts that she would live in Rohan forevermore and rule beside an intimidating man, her husband, she felt she could not keep them away.

"My Queen," her handmaiden gasped when the tears began to trail down Lothíriel's cheeks. "Is anything amiss?"

Lothíriel found her hands shaking as she wiped aside her tears, shaking her head. "No, no. I am just a little…overwhelmed. Please, forgive me," Lothíriel said. The handmaiden nodded, still vaguely precautious, but said no more.

After her hair had been completed, Lothíriel sat on the chaise lounge to put her creamy colored slippers on her feet. After finding the jewelry Lothíriel was to wear, her handmaiden began to put on the emerald earrings, handing Lothíriel three rings to accompany her new wedding ring on her fingers.

Lothíriel stood when she was finished, turning to leave, but her handmaiden stopped her. "My Queen," she said, "wait, there is yet one thing you have to wear."

Nodding, Lothíriel stood, looking in the mirror and fixing invisible wrinkles in her gown. The handmaiden returned with a box, a note on top that read: To Lothíriel, From Éomer. It was simple, yet the touch brought bliss to Lothíriel's features.

The handmaiden opened the box and in it was the most gorgeous necklace she had ever seen. The golden chain was not truly a chain, for it was sculpted of tiny running horses, each horse's nose connected in a clasp to the tail of the horse in front. Each horse seemed slightly different from the last, be it a dipped profile or a leaner body. In the middle of the necklace was a dangling emerald, the focal point.

"My," Lothíriel breathed as her handmaiden clasped it behind her neck. Lothíriel touched it and smiled at the warmth, looking at it in the mirror. "This is truly magnificent!"

The handmaiden smiled. "It has a story behind it, but I was told not to inform you it. I deem you should ask Éomer-King."

Lothíriel nodded and thanked her faithful maid for assisting her with getting ready for the feast. The handmaiden nodded and fetched Éomer to escort her to the main hall, the place for the banquet and later dances. Lothíriel waited patiently, not being able to keep her hands from touching the necklace that lay around her neck.

Finally, Éomer rounded the corner and Lothíriel was once again caught off her guard at how handsome he appeared. She had not seen him so finely dressed since their wedding, and she found herself very taken by him. He was dressed in an elaborately made dark jade tunic, his hair glowing golden underneath the crown that was much larger than the one she wore and every bit as exquisite.

He offered her his arm, and the brown eyes that bore across her body caused Lothíriel to blush and avert her eyes to the floor. Yes, he was attractive, but he was still so daunting that Lothíriel could not pull together enough bravery to say anything, yet alone hold his gaze.

"You look very nice," his voice finally rumbled, startling Lothíriel. Seeing the necklace around her neck, Éomer smiled, asking her, "Do you like my gift?"

"Yes, very much so," she replied, her fingers once again touched the beautiful emerald around her neck. Lothíriel could not find her voice to ask the story of it, and so she merely set her eyes anywhere but his face as they began their walk.

The walk to the Great Hall was silent. Lothíriel could sense Éomer's frustration and this continued to make her timid. Was it never to work out? Lothíriel felt a lump rise in her throat at the horrors that her thoughts found. To be a wife of someone who she could not speak to – not of his doing, but her own foolishness would be horrible. She prayed he was not angry with her.

They were inside the Great Hall after a moment, the tables all adorned with the best settings and food piled high on the serving dishes. So many eyes stared to the handsome young couple, and Lothíriel tried her best to smile as she had been taught to in front of many. She found Imrahil's eyes; he gave her a reassuring smile as she finished surveying the crowd.

Aragorn and Arwen were present, as were Legolas and Gimli who had managed to take some time out of their busy lives to be present to the wedding. There were Éowyn and Faramir, Elphir and Nienna with a fussing Alphros, along with Éothain and his beautiful wife Forleaswyn, heavy with child. There was Erchirion, Amrothos, Merry, Pippin… so many people she recognized that Lothíriel had no right to be wary. However, her stomach turned in anxiety and she felt light-headed.

Éomer pulled the chair out for Lothíriel, who daintily sat. Then, Éomer took his own seat beside her at the head of the table.

Éomer's voice crisply cut through the atmosphere with the words that all had been anticipating. "Let the feast begin."

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