Title: Taken

Author: Crimson Coin Aragorn yearns for the life he has left behind. But his desires are fulfilled in a way he never imagined.

Rating: PG13. R in later chapters

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters within. They are from the mind of Tolkien and are borrowed.

Archiving: Ask first, please.

"Father,"

Prince Imrahil shook his head, his attention not diverted from his task. He placed another folded tunic into his saddlebag. "I've made my decision, Lothiriel. You will stay here while Elphir and I ride for Minas Tirith."

Insistent, Lothiriel stepped forward, standing next to her father. "I would be useful by your side. Father, I can help you rule while the King is gone."

"I do not argue with you on that account," he responded. "But the road to Minas Tirith is unsafe and Elessar's letter does nothing to quell my fear. I will not have your life risked in order to accompany me. No, you will stay in Edoras until I feel the roads are safe."

"Father."

"Lothy, stop." Imrahil ordered, turning to face his daughter. His eyes left no room for argument and his stern gaze locked. "I told you, No. I cannot ride with great haste, worrying about you."

She clenched her jaw, her body tense. "I can take care of myself."

He sighed, his palm cupping her cheek. His gaze softened as his roughened palm contrasted against her smooth skin. "And that is what frightens me." He chuckled softly to himself, his eyes searching her face. "So like your mother."

The anger fled from her body, a sorrow filling her at his words.

Imrahil felt a small smile tugging at his lips. Her hair dark as midnight yet when hit by the perfect light, shimmered with deep red highlights. Her eyes green as the sea and just as turbulent, and when standing close, flecks of grey, gold, and blue glittered brilliantly. Her skin silken, a light tanned complexion, one only received from years in the sun. "So beautiful," he said, softly. "I couldn't bear to live if something happened to you when I could have stopped it. And no matter what the odds, if I were near, I would blame myself. Please, Lothy, stay here and let an old man's heart rest at ease."

A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye and she willed the tremors in her body to cease. She nodded quickly, licking her lips so she could speak. "Of course, Father. I ... I'll stay here."

"Thank you," he sighed in relief, pulling her against him for a sound embrace. His cheek pressed to hers, he closed his eyes, relishing in the feel of his only daughter in his arms. "You do not know how happy this makes me."

She laughed when he eased her back, his hands on her shoulders so he could look in her eyes.

"And Eomer isn't one of those bad sorts," he continued with a smile.

"No, he's not," she responded, her smile bright.

Imrahil shrugged slightly, mirth dancing in his calm eyes. "And from what I've heard of the ladies of the court, he is quite a handsome man."

Lothiriel rolled her eyes. "Father." When her father said nothing, she turned from him, averting her attention to an interesting pattern on the stone wall. "Eomer King is your good friend and I never looked upon your friends with anything more than proper respect and courtesy."

He chuckled, his brow raised with curiosity. "Of course, my Little Swan, I know this. I am also not blind to the type of men you find attractive."

Alerted, she turned back to her father, a look of horror and guilt on her face. "Father."

"Now now," he calmed her, returning his attention to his bags. "I may be your father but I am still a man. I know the kinds of men that attract you, My Dear. You know as a princess, I cannot allow you to marry any sailor in my fleet. He must be a man of standing and ..."

"And honor," Lothiriel continued for him. "Yes, Father, I know. I have heard this monologue many times. But that was four years ago. I have grown since then and am not the flighty sixteen year old looking for attention."

"No, you are not," he replied, looking at his daughter again. "Now you are a beautiful woman who does not need to try to get the attention of suitors."

"Father."

"Listen to me," he said, his eyes soft despite his brisk tone. "I will not be around forever. I ..."

"Wish to marry me off?" she snapped back at him. "Wish to see me wed to a prime alliance with Gondor. Is that what Eomer is to you?"

"No," he responded gently. "Eomer is a dear friend, a man who I see as my son. If not for him, I may not be standing here this day." Closing the distance between them, Imrahil reached out, cupping his daughter's face in his hands. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers, his eyes closed as he spoke. "He is a good man, Lothy. A very good man."

"I know he is, Father," she said, softly.

Imrahil kissed her brow. "My Beautiful Swan. Go now. There is much I must do before I leave on the morrow."

Lothiriel nodded, leaving her father without a word. She hated when he spoke of his mortality. His words simply reminded her of her own mortality and that of her mother.

Her mother

Not a day passed where Lothiriel did not think of her mother. She knew her, if but a little. It had been ten years since her mother died and with each passing year, the memories faded just a little bit more. No longer could she remember the sound of her voice, the feel of her embrace.

A tear slipped from Lothiriel's eye. And that memory was rekindled not one month ago when her mare had fallen ill and died in the stables of Edoras. The mare, a beautiful speckled grey, had been her mother's. Imrahil had bestowed the mare upon his daughter when her mother passed and Lothiriel cherished the creature.

Lothiriel smiled softly, remembering the past years with her treasured horse. She remembered being very young and her mother would lift her onto the mare, holding her in front as they galloped down the beach. Her mother's secure arms held her in place as they both sat astride racing through the sand, the crisp sea air whipping through her hair.

She sighed as the memories flooded her and she found herself in the stables, standing before the stall that once belonged to her beloved mare. Willing the tears to stay back, she leaned forward, resting her arms against the wooden gate, her eyes blankly staring at the fresh bed of hay.

And nestled in the safe embrace of her mother, they would run the precious horse back to their home. Father would stand on the beach, waiting for them. She could remember smiling at the sight of him, his graying hair blowing with the sea breeze, everything about him relaxed and happy. His smile bright, his eyes soft, he took a few steps closer.

Lothiriel would giggle, leaping off the horse and into her father's awaiting arms. He would chuckle deeply, hugging her close, spinning her in the air before placing a kiss on her brow. She loved him so.

And then he would place her on her feet, letting her race towards her brothers and their games in the surf, pouncing upon Amrothos and tackling her favored brother into the waves.

But one time, she had been proud, tackling not one but two brothers at once. Standing tall and dripping wet, she looked to her parents.

Imrahil stood next to that precious mare, his hand resting on the horse's neck as he gazed up at the woman still perched in the saddle. He laughed at something she said, his gaze adoring when he placed his other hand on her thigh, slowly moving his hand up.

Her mother smiled and leaned down, stretching her neck and softly kissed her husband's mouth. He responded with equal tenderness, his smile pulling up to his eyes when she sat back and he reached up, helping her down off her mount.

Lothiriel remembered the joy on her father's face as he held his wife, her mother. He said something again, sealing their lips another time and when the kiss ended, they paused, standing close and locked in each others' arms. As they spoke in hushed whispers, her mother had pulled from his embrace, racing towards the water. Imrahil chased after her.

Her mother laughed.

Lothiriel smiled. She could remember her mother's laugh, melodic and a little deep, rich and full. She remembered the way her parents' would gaze at each other when they thought none were looking, the way her father still spoke so reverently about the only woman to have claimed his heart so completely.

She wished to find a love like that, a love so powerful that even death brought no end. She wished for a love of passion and still purity. Complete and total. She wished to experience the same love her parent's had once possessed before it was wrenched away.

"It seems that I always find you in here."

Lothiriel jumped at the deep voice, though his tone soft, he still startled her. Placing a hand on her chest to still her racing heart, she released a sigh as her eyes met those of the man standing at the stable door. "My Lord, you frightened me."

"Many apologies, my Lady," Eomer responded with a slight bow of the head. "I did not mean to startle you so."

"I'm afraid the fault is mine," she said, turning away from him and from the stall. "I should not be wandering your home so freely. Forgive me."

"There is naught to forgive," he stated, raising a single hand to stop her. "My home is yours for as long as you are here. I apologize for breaking you of your reverie."

A small smile pulled at the corner of her lips. "It seems all we can ever do is apologize, your Majesty."

Eomer laughed, his voice rich and full of mirth. "Aye, indeed. But please, do not call me such a title. I fear I am still unused to it and it unnerves me."

"What would you have me call you, Horse-master?"

He took a few steps towards her, his smile bright when she did not step away. "By my name would be lovely."

"Alright, Eomer King, I shall call you such. But only should you address me the same way."

Eomer bowed graciously. "So be your wish, Eomer King."

Lothiriel laughed. "You have bested me in wit, my Lord."

"It is good to see you smile, my Lady." He said softly. "Too long has sadness clouded great beauty within these halls. My sister had never smiled after Grima Wormtongue poisoned our king and only after meeting Faramir, did her smile return. I have since pledged that no beauty will ever find cause to frown in the Golden Hall. Pray tell me, what troubles you so? I wish to make any amends within my power to see you at ease."

"I am eased by your words, My Lord, but I fear that what sorrows me is not of this hall." She sighed, her gaze falling back into the empty stall. "I was thinking of my beloved Faun."

"Ah yes," Eomer said, gently, standing next to her and leaning on the stall door. "The mare you arrived on. I am sorry for you loss. We did everything we could."

"I know."

He bowed his head. "Thus proves we are not master of the horses. I spent two nights in these stables, trying everything I had learned and it proved failure."

Her eyes widened at his words. "I did not know this. You stayed in these stables to help my horse."

Eomer cocked his head then averted his eyes back into the stall. "I did it for you, My Lady."

A small gasp slipped from her lips, and she praised the Valar that he was not looking at her.

"I saw how much you loved that mare," he continued, unheeding to any reaction she would have had. "It reminded me of the way we Rohirrim love our horses. I could not bear to think if something were to happen to Firefoot."

At his name, the proud deep brown stallion tossed his head, stamping the ground a few times.

Eomer chuckled, walking over to his treasured mount. "Yes, my Friend. You are most important to me." He smiled, reaching out to rub the star on the horse's head and Firefoot huffed appreciatively, nudging his master with his big head. "He seems to want me to stand next to you again."

Lothiriel smiled, approaching the 20 hand high stallion with a look of awe. "He's magnificent." She sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. "I never thought to see such a fantastic creature."

Firefoot tossed his head again.

"Careful," Eomer joked. "He understands you and I'm afraid I can't do with his ego getting any bigger. I can't have my steed's ego bigger than my own." He watched as she came even closer. "He's usually not fond of strangers."

"It's ok," she said with confidence.

Eomer wrinkled his brow when a string of Elvish slipped from her lips. He couldn't understand her as his Elvish was quite poor except for a few words here and there. But his confusion quickly turned to shock when Firefoot stretched his neck over the stall door and nuzzled the petite princess.

Lothiriel laughed, stroking the horse's head then rubbing his neck. She only shook her head when the big stallion started nipping at her dress. "Oh, I see how it is. You only came here for the apple." That said, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the apple, offering it to the hearty beast.

Firefoot took the apple without hesitation and he snorted his approval.

She rubbed his head again. "Yes, you are beautiful." And that said, she pressed a kiss to the horse's muzzle before turning back to Eomer. "You were saying, My Lord."

Laughing heartily, Eomer approached the two, landing a heavy hand on his once faithful steed's neck. "Traitor, you. Is that how it is to be whenever a pretty filly bats an eye?"

Lothiriel couldn't help but blush at his words but she looked away and back to the empty stall. She sighed.

Eomer's smile faded as he watched her again.

She smiled, sadly. "I put the apple there this morning. I forgot again that she would not be here to greet me."

"Faun ... is that an Elvish name?"

"Yes," she nodded. "It means 'cloud'. I remember when I first saw her. My father had gifted her to my mother and I was maybe seven years old. My mother asked me what I would name her. I had just begun taking Elvish lessons and Faun ... cloud ... it was my favorite word. Sometimes, my Mother and I would lie on the beach, staring up at the sky. She pointed up and asked me, 'Do you know what those are, my little swan?' I, of course, knew they were clouds and said such."

Eomer smiled. "And since the mare resembled the color of spring clouds, the name was only fitting. Faun ... such a beautiful name. It seems Dol Amroth is only filled with beautiful things."

Lothiriel nodded, a soft smile on her face. "The sea is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. So unpredictable and vicious yet just as capable as being calm and still. The color swirls and changes with its mood, sometimes black as night or deep green as a lush forest, or as blue as the summer sky. There's something passionate about it, something ..." she trailed off, ducking her head to gather herself. The sorrow dispelled from her face as she met his eyes, offering him a bright smile. "Have you ever seen the sea, Eomer King?"

He shook his head, his eyes unwavering. "Never, My Lady. Though if it is even a percentage of the beauty I have witnessed from Dol Amroth, I fear I may die in bliss."

She met his eyes a moment, filled with confusion and then she quickly ducked her head, her cheeks flushing a brilliant shade of crimson. "I did not know you were a poet, My Lord."

It was his turn to flush and he averted his eyes, letting out a nervous laughter. "Strange thing is that I am not." He licked his lips, his thoughts wandering over the last few weeks and the many sleepless nights he spent dreaming of saying these words to her. And now he'd been caught and all other words escaped him. Why did his palms sweat so when she was near? Why did his heart race? Why did the air hang thick?

"My Lord?"

Eomer shook his head, clearing his mind of such thoughts and he forced a smile. "Princess, I have something for you."

She furrowed her brow, looking at him with confusion and uncertainty. "A gift? For me?"

"Yes," he answered with a nod and motioned to the other end of the stables. "Come with me." He offered his arm which she gladly took and he walked slowly. "I know how much you loved Faun and there is little if nothing Rohan can do to make up for such a loss. Your father is a good friend of mine and I care for him deeply, in turn his family ... including you, Lothiriel."

Her breath caught high in her throat when he stopped, taking her hands in his. She met his eyes, her knees weakening at the intensity. So clear, so blue, so honest, she could see so deeply into his heart. She spent a month in the halls of Meduseld and somehow, his eyes had eluded her. By the Valar, she couldn't look away.

"Let me offer you what is dearest to my heart," he continued. "Let me make amends for the sorrow you have felt."

Lothiriel could not avert her eyes. Why only now did she notice how handsome he was? His dark blonde mane hung long, far longer than any Gondorian nobleman, and brushed well below his shoulder blades. His brow wide as well as his cheeks, his nose proud and centered perfectly. His jaw strongly angled and broad, his cleft chin so adorable, she wanted to press her finger against that chin. A rough stubble covered his cheeks, his jaw, his chin coated with a slightly fuller yet still tamed beard. His thick lips, pink and moist, his upper lip teased with scruff and why did she have the sudden urge to kiss him?

" ... and I wish you would accept."

She shook her head, her cheeks flushed. "I'm sorry, Eomer, I ... I didn't hear a word you said." She ducked her head, embarrassed. "It's terribly rude of me."

He smiled, reaching out to touch her cheek, his hand shaking as his fingers brushed her smooth skin. "All is forgiven. I fear that many times I find my mind wanders. But here. Let me show you what I mean."

Lothiriel willed the blush to fade from her cheeks as she followed him a little further through the stables. She stumbled when he suddenly stopped and her eyes searched the area and then him.

Eomer turned to face her, a nervous flicker in his eyes. "I wish to present you that which is most dear to Rohan."

Her gaze followed the motion of his hand, and her brow furrowed at the three stalls before her.

"Three horses, My Lady, and the choice is yours." He stepped forward. "This is Wingfoot, a three year old Stallion. This is Beorg, a four year old gelding. And this is Hæglfaru, a two and a half year old mare."

Still confused, she licked her lips. "They are all charming, Eomer, but ..."

When she trailed off, he chuckled shyly. "I wish to bestow upon you a gift. My Lady ... choose one to your liking." When her eyes widened and she did not respond, he continued. "You need not make a decision right away. You may ride them and spend time with them ... and you may choose one or all of them for your own."

"Oh, Eomer," she sighed.

He shuddered at her voice, his mind wandering and racing to other activities, where she would sigh his name the same way. He quickly dismissed such treasonous thoughts.

"They are beautiful," she said, just as softly. "But I couldn't accept such a gift."

"Please," he responded, taking her hand in his. "Please, do." He led her to the first stall and Wingfoot shook his head. His coat chestnut brown, his ears, muzzle and mane black. White tufts along his hooves and deep black yet mischievous eyes. "Wingfoot, here, was sired by Firefoot. I'm very picky about which horses I keep as stallions and which are castrated. I want my stock strong and Wingfoot is the fastest horse in the Mark. His mother is over there."

Lothiriel followed his gaze, spotting a smaller black mare a few stalls down. "She belongs to one of my advisors, Gamling." He continued. "Have you met Gamling? He's a fine man. I trust him with my life. Anyway, her name is Night. He let his youngest daughter name her and a lovely name it is. Night is one of the fastest horses in the Mark and that with Firefoot, the greatest war horse ... Wingfoot is quite impressive."

Eomer smiled. "He's not as big as Firefoot but he's faster and a bit more nimble on his feet. Firefoot tends to just plow through whatever is in his way. Wingfoot would dance around it, never missing a step. He's such a fantastic horse."

Firefoot snorted his disapproval and Eomer laughed. "You are fantastic too, my friend," he called.

"He's lovely," Lothiriel said. "But do you not think he's a little big for me?"

A roguish smile spread across his face. "No stallion is ever too big if you know how to ride him." He brushed passed her to the next stall.

Lothiriel's eyes widened, her gaze flying to him but she could not see his expression, his back already turned. She had been naïve to his blatant flattery before this moment but not for reasons of being unworldly. On the contrary, she understood completely and his innuendo, to any other noble woman of Gondor, would have been appalling.

"Ah, Beorg, my friend," Eomer sighed, approaching the gelding. He made sure the mischief fled from his expression. Though he wanted to test her, he did not wish to be obvious.

"He's beautiful too, My Lord," Lothiriel said softly. Beorg stood proud, his coat black with large patches of white on his back , a white star on his head and more white on his legs. The horse tossed his head, his mane whirling with the movement.

Eomer laughed.

"What find you so amusing, Eomer King?"

He only shook his head, reaching out to pat the great beast's neck. "Beorg does everything in his power to hold attention. It is as if he believes he is the most beautiful horse alive and wishes everyone to agree."

She chuckled softly, approaching the gelding with a sweet smile. "Beorg, you are a beautiful creature."

The horse whinnied its approval and stepped closer to the stall door, sticking his head over the side. He reached out, nuzzling against Lothiriel's outstretched hand.

"Another sired by Firefoot," Eomer said, proudly. "His coloring did surprise me, since he looks nothing like Firefoot. His mother is an all black mare from the Westfold. She's over there. Beautiful isn't she?"

Lothrirel nodded. "She is. You seem to have a lot of black horses. I don't believe I've seen so many before."

"They are common in the Westfold," Eomer answered. "Her name is Gast."

"Ghost."

He smiled at her words. "I didn't know you spoke my language."

"Only a little," she responded, sheepishly, a slight blush rising to her cheeks. "Just a few words here and there. A couple of our stable boys were from Rohan and they came to us when ... when ..."

"When my Uncle fell under Sauron's spell?" He continued for her. "Though the memory is still fresh in my mind, I do know that these things happened."

"Aye," she said. "But they often spoke in your tongue. After a while, I learned a few words. One of the boys always spoke of a ghost in the stables." She smiled. "To this day, he still says as much, but I never thought anything of it. Anyway, that's how I know what 'gast' means."

His smile brightened, his gaze tender as she spoke and when she stopped, he continued to gaze at her. She met his eyes, shifting uncomfortably under his scrutiny. He did not wish her to be uncomfortable. Ever.

"I'm sorry, My Lord," she said, meekly. "I speak too much. I ..."

"Nay, Lothiriel." He interrupted, raising a hand to silence her.

She shivered as her name rolled off his tongue. So soft and sweet, his voice deep and husked. Her stomach churned, her heart racing. She bowed her head.

But he would have none of it. He reached out, tilting her chin up. He wished to see her eyes. So beautiful. "You never need to censor your thoughts from me. Never. I wish you to speak as free as the wind. Like I said, I saw what caging did to my sister. I would never see a woman feel caged in my presence in any way."

Her flush deepened and she turned her attention back to Gast. "Why did you name her such?"

"I'm not sure. That was her name when she arrived in my stables. And this ... oh, this is my precious pride. Isn't she magnificent?"

Lothiriel walked to the next stall, her eyes on the white mare. Her mane and tale gray, more gray spots scattering along her body, neck and head. She didn't react to the company outside her stall at first, merely turned her head to acknowledge their presence.

Eomer could not help but smile. "Her name means 'Hailstorm' and my sister named her such. The name is fitting, her manner somewhat cold and aloof and it also matches her color. She is the sister of Eowyn's mare. They were both sired by my Uncle's horse a couple of years before the war. Eowyn ..."

When he trailed off, she curiously turned her attention to him. His expression, blank, his eyes gazing at the wooden walls of the stable, his thoughts not in this time. She cocked her head, trying to meet his gaze. "You miss her."

"Aye."

His voice was so soft, she barely heard him. His tone was one she did not expect from such a man. "She is not lost. She is still your sister and she still loves you. Just because she is now a woman a Gondor ... it does not change."

"I know," he responded, sadly then forced a smile. "It was silly, I suppose. But I always thought we would be together. That she would marry a man of Rohan and be near. I, of course, would never marry. Being Third Marshall, I never would have the chance and I would not want to hold a woman, not knowing if I'd return to her. But now with my Uncle and Cousin dead ... and I am King. My sister married a prince of Gondor and I find my advisors taking every moment to tell me to find a Queen." He finally met her gaze. "Can I not care for my people first?"

"As sovereign, you are expected to," Lothiriel answered, simply. "But as a man, you should also care for your own needs and wants. Think not of finding a Queen as a task but as a welcomed reprieve. I saw what that companionship did for my parents. How much they loved each other and how easy governing was when he had my mother at his side. She helped him with decisions, encouraged him to follow his heart. She ... she was good to him."

She sniffed, blinking furiously in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. "And when she was gone, I saw what that did to him. How lonely he was and how much he missed her." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. You must think me mad, speaking so."

"No," he interrupted her before she could flee. She was endeared all the more to him, the way she shifted her weight, her nerves more pronounced then that of a young foal. "You are right." He reached out then, hooking a finger under her chin to raise her eyes to his. His breath caught high in his throat. Bema, so beautiful.

Lothiriel licked her lips, her stomach churning uncontrollably. Why did he look at her so? What was it about his eyes? Those stark, beaming eyes and his lips. Oh Valar, those lips.

"You are wise beyond your years, My Lady," he said, softly, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. "But I know your parents had an arranged marriage, and love came afterwards. I wish to marry for love from the beginning. I will love her for her intelligence and for her wit. Her wisdom and her beauty. I will love her for her loyalty and her honesty. And because she loves Rohan and horses. I will love her because she loves me for who I am, not what I am."

She swallowed hard, unable to tear her gaze from his. Her eyes widened slightly when he leaned closer to her and she inhaled sharply. She could feel his warm moist breath on her lips and she yearned for him to close that final distance. His scent was unmistakable, a mingling of warrior, horse, and man. He was intoxicating. What had come over her?

"Lothiriel," he breathed, his eyes never leaving hers. "Do you know where I would find her?"

She could not breathe. She could not think. Her body swirled and tumbled with unrecognizable sensations. She had never felt such before in his presence. What was so different now? What had he done to her?

Eomer slowly licked his lips, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. A small whimper slipped past her lips and he smiled, his eyes searching her, memorizing every feature. "Bema, you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

She wanted to cry at his words. Her heart felt about to burst from her chest. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck, tangle her fingers in his hair and pull him to her. She wanted to feel his lips on her own, feel the kiss he could offer. Would his kiss be soft and chaste or would he explode with passion, claiming her in every way? She could hear his heart beating, thumping vigorously in his chest, or was that her own heart.

"Your Majesty?"

Eomer sighed, his eyes closed as he pulled back from her and he swallowed hard to control himself. "I am here, Gamling." He answered.

Lothiriel ducked her head, averting her eyes from the approaching man as she watched Hæglfaru stomp at the hay in her stall. The mare watched her with knowing eyes and if Lothiriel didn't know better, she'd swear the horse was smirking at her.

"Sire," Gamling called again and he smiled as he saw Eomer.

Lothiriel didn't hear what they said, only noticed how suddenly cold it was now that Eomer had stepped away from her. Her mind could not figure out the emotions in her heart, the sensations that enveloped her. What had happened?

Yes, she had lied to her father. The moment she saw Eomer, she thought he was an attractive man but had thought nothing of it. Now, she could not rid him from her mind. His eyes, his lips ... everything. So roguishly handsome and yet still something boyishly endearing. Was it the way his lips quirked when he smiled? Or was it the way that he looked at her, a look that sent gooshflesh rising along her skin.

"My Lady?"

Shaken from her thoughts, Lothiriel looked up again and as expected, her breath caught at the look in Eomer's eyes.

He smiled tenderly, taking her much smaller hands in his. "I fear I must leave you. The council awaits me. You'll have to forgive Gamling, he can be quite insistent."

Only then did she notice that the other man was gone, and she was again alone with him.

Eomer turned her hands over, his roughened thumbs stroking the insides of her palms. "But please do accept my offer. Choose one of these fine mounts and ride. Just outside the gates though. I do not wish for anything to happen of you. I will tell the guards to keep watch for you. I do hope to see you, your father and brother at dinner with me this evening."

"I look forward to it," she responded, breathlessly.

His smile brightened and he bowed.

Lothiriel gasped when he raised her hands to his mouth, pressing a warm soft kiss in the center of each palm. Again, her stomach fluttered, her body surged and his soft moist lips made her skin crawl with delicious anticipation. Oh, what it would be like to kiss those lips.

Eomer indulged himself with one more kiss to the backs of her fingers before nodding his head and then walking from the stables.

She released a breath she did not realize she had been holding. His actions tender yet bold in his familiarity. They hardly knew each other past common conversation and court politeness but still he managed to race her heart. She had to rid her mind of him. Everything was too confusing. She opted to heed the King's advice and go for a nice long ride.

Glancing to the stable door, she froze. An all too familiar figure stood in the doorway, his stance proud and a small smirk on his face. She clenched her teeth at the sight of him yet still held her head high. She had almost forgotten he was in Edoras ... almost.

The young man bowed politely. "Princess." That said, he turned his back and left her.

Lothiriel ground her teeth, turning her attention to Beorg, the gelding. Yes, perhaps a ride would be most beneficial.

Eomer smiled softly to himself as he walked slowly through the corridors of his home. He knew he should be rushing to the council meeting, but his mind was far from matters of state. Instead, his thoughts swirled around the great beauty of Dol Amroth and her captivating eyes, her sweet mouth, her smooth skin.

He sighed, contently. He knew his actions had been bold, even more so than he would have liked. Though he was a man known for his conquests and his ability to charm anyone of the female sex, he had never been so obvious. But he could not risk losing her. He had loved her since they first met at Aragorn's wedding to Arwen, the Evenstar.

He couldn't help but smile at the memory of their meeting. How polite and proper she greeted him yet he could see such depth in the beauty of her eyes. Nay, this indeed was no typical Gondorian woman.

He could never tear his eyes away, so captivated he was. His sister had laughed and called him a love sick fool. But so be it. Faramir was just as bad. Why was it acceptable for a poetic ranger of Gondor and not for a great warrior of Rohan?

His heart had nearly stopped when Eowyn said that Imrahil, his eldest son and youngest daughter would be traveling to Edoras for his Uncle's funeral. Though a time of mourning, his body surged with the thought of her so near.

But now, with such terrible news from Gondor, she would be returning with her father and he'd never see her again. He had to do something, say something so that hopefully she would know his heart.

His smile grew more ridiculous as he continued to walk and he knew that if anyone were to see him, they'd think he was mad. But he cared not. Meandering through the corridor, he heard two familiar voices: Imrahil and his eldest son, Elphir.

"I don't care. I still think Lothiriel should come with us. Her place is with us."

"Elphir, I know how protective you are of Lothy but please try to understand. With this unknown force, we know not who or where is safe. But this I know, she will be safe in Edoras. Eomer would see that she is safe. He would do anything to ensure it."

"And that is what worries me, Father. I know she is your daughter and you do not wish to see these things. But I have seen the way he leers at her, licks his lips as a rabid wolf stalking his prey. I would not leave her in such savage company."

"Elphir, hold your tongue! We are guests in his house and no matter your personal feelings you will not speak of another realm's sovereign in such a manner."

"You may be blind to his intentions. But I am not. If you will not permit Lothy to come with us, then permit me to stay behind."

"You know I cannot do that. As a Captain of my Swan Knights, you know I need you to lead them. In Minas Tirith, I will be acting ruling and that means that I will not be able to lead them, if necessary. I do not know how many men Aragorn is planning to take to search for his wife. I need the Knights to defend the city. I need you with me."

Silence

"Please, Elphir, understand. Lothiriel will be fine. She can take care of herself. She's a grown woman and though I know your love for her is deep, I need you to trust my judgment. And I do know that Eomer is interested in my daughter, but I also believe that his intentions are honorable. He is an honorable man, my son."

"And I suppose you have not heard what his men say of him. A man of conquests. Would you have him conquest your daughter for political means?"

"Elphir!"

"Do not try to tell me you do not know, Father. Do not try to convince me that you are not worried about this."

"I know of his reputation, Elphir, but I trust him as a man of honor and as a man who fought by my side and as a close friend. I trust him to respect my daughter. And I will expect you to do the same."

"If his hand even grazes hers in the wrong way, I will draw my sword."

"And I would plead with you not to act so rash. The moment you draw your sword against their king, the Rohirrim will shoot you down. And what would I do without my eldest son? As much as it pains me to see, Lothy is a woman now. I know she is beautiful. And I know that because of her beauty, men ... will look."

Silence

"There is more in Eomer's eyes then just desire, Elphir. That is why I mentioned him to Lothy. I think he is a good man."

"He is no different than any other man who has laid their eyes upon her. I will not have my sister gawked at, paraded about as a mare on display for this stallion to take as his own, as he sees fit."

"Elphir ... please."

"No, Father."

"No, you listen Elphir! I am your father and your Lord. You will do as I command. I command you to be courteous to Eomer King. I do not know what has happened to earn you such hostility, but I will not have it. You will be polite and proper and we will leave tomorrow at first light to Minas Tirith. And Lothy will stay here under Eomer's protection. Is that understood?"

A long pause followed. "Yes, Father."

Eomer turned his back, his teeth clenched as he stormed the opposite way down the corridor.

(So ends this chapter. Sorry it took me so long, but I've been super busy. I promise more chapters are coming. Thanks for all the reviews, it means a great deal. And yes, I know that I have Aragorn and Arwen speaking an ancient Elf Tongue, but I was using that chapter as an exercise with learning that tongue. Forgive me, if I did not state that. I love reviews, good, bad, matters not, I like to know what everyone thinks. Remember, the more reviews, the faster I can write. Heh ... blackmail, yes I know. I hope this long chapter makes some peeps happy. And next chappie: BACK TO OUR FAVORITE RANGER FROM THE NORTH!)