A/N; Well, your reviews have continued to be helpful and inspirational! I hope you enjoy the third chapter, which I seemed to have churned out really fast. Reviews feed me!!

Just a few notes;

Spacepirate (spacepirateeyahoo.ca) - Thank you so much for correcting me! I hope I did a better job with this chapter.. I never knew 'ok' originated in WWII. I learn something new everyday! Thanks again!

Voldie on Varsity Track ) - I agree, more E/L everyone!! Unfortunately the smut won't be for another few chapters.. I think. I may change my mind ;x Who knows. I'll definitely read your story, and you think I'm talented? I'm honored! You rock. ;b

lady scribe of avandell - oh very good guess! Thank you for the review :B! She so very Guinevere.

To Everyone Else: I didn't want to take up too much time with all the reviews, so I spent more time writing! I do hope you like this update, I planned on making it a bit shorter than this, but I couldn't stop writing. Don't forget to review!

Disclaimer; "Our pets head are falling off!" Dumb & Dumber

Éomer stirred, wincing in pain as he remembered his wounds. He found his vision was considerably less blurry as he looked up in to the eyes of his dear friend Éothain. He tried to smile, but his lips were dry and cracked.

"Do not speak, your majesty. No doubt your throat is quite dry. Would you like some water?" At Éomer's nod, a servant was sent off to get water and broth.

"You gave us quite a scare." He helped the King take water and set the broth on a table for when Éomer was ready to eat.

Éomer coughed some, and with Éothain's help, managed to sit up slightly so that he was propped on pillows. After drinking more water, he finally was able to speak. His voice was rough, and it hurt his throat to talk.

"Where is my Uncle?" He near whispered, and Éothain took a surprised step back.

"Your uncle?" He questioned, looking to one of the healers. "My lord, what is your last memory?"

Éomer frowned and thought for a moment. He had flashes of things, of Orc's and Rohirrim. He recognized the territory well enough. "Battling Orc's with Theodred. Is he alright?"

Éothain opened his mouth to speak, though he knew not what he should say. The healer pulled him aside and began to whisper in his ear, while Éomer watched them suspiciously. "I would have you speak, sirs, on the condition of my cousin!" His voice had raised slightly, and both men could tell their King was growing irritated.

And to make matters even more complicated, Lothíriel chose then to burst in.

"Éomer! They told me you had woken.." She was instantly at his side, tears in her bright eyes as she ran her fingers through his hair. She did not see the confusion in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but she leaned forward and kissed him gently.

Éomer felt as if fireworks had burst behind his eyes at her touch. His heart raced and his palms grew sweaty, and his body hummed with the feel of her. It left him with peculiar feelings of familiarity and confusion. He did not return the kiss, being unaware of who this woman was.

When he did not kiss her in return, she pulled back, her happy countenance quickly fading.

"My lord?" She whispered.

"Who are you?" He stressed, something in his heart twisting painfully at the sight of shock and hurt in her beautiful eyes. She pulled away from him quickly, her bewildered gaze searching out Éothain and the healer.

"I do not understand.." She stuttered, her hands shaking. Éothain lead her from the room again, Erfanaiel waiting patiently outside. She looked into her husbands eyes with surprise, having not expected the visit to be so short.

"There is much to say, but now is not the time." He murmured, giving the Queen to her maid. "Be sure she is kept away from the king, for a time."

"I am not a child!" She cried, her hands clutched into small fists. "I shall not allow you to usher me off, again, and I demand to know what is going on. Why did he ask who I was? What is going on?" Erfanaiel gently took Lothíriel's arm, trying to soothe her away.

"You have my word that as soon as we know what is going on, you shall know." Éothain looked straight into her eyes, and the honesty there startled Lothíriel in to being calm. She stole one glance into the room, her gaze meeting Éomer's curious one. When she saw none of the love and tenderness that normally was held there, she turned and fled to her rooms.

"What do you think has happened?" Erfanaiel whispered as she took Éothain's hands in hers.

"The healers and I fear he has lost his memory.. He is asking for his uncle and cousin." He released a sigh, his voice lowered so that Éomer could not hear. "I do hope Lady Éowyn arrives soon. She surely shall know how to handle this. If it is permanent.." His face was grim as Erfanaiel lowered her gaze, her shoulders slumping.

"Poor Lothíriel.." She murmured before her husband embraced her, planting a soft kiss upon her forehead.

"We are doing all we can. At least he is still a live. That in and of itself is a miracle.. An absolute miracle." Erfanaiel nodded and released him slowly.

"I shall see you later?"

"Of course." He leaned forward and kissed her again before she disappeared down the corridors, seeking out her mistress.

Erfanaiel found her out on the balcony of the Royal Apartments. It was still raining, though it was more of a mist now, but Lothíriel seemed not to care. She had no cloak on, and she was shivering slightly. Though her maid knew not if it was from tears, fatigue, cold, or all three.

"My lady.. You shall make that cold of yours worse." As if on cue, she sneezed, but did not move.

Erfanaiel braved the weather and walked out on to the balcony, an extra cloak in hand. She placed it upon Lothíriel shoulders, shaking her head softly.

"He does not know who I am?" She whispered, looking to her maid.

She opened her mouth to speak, not knowing whether to quell her mistress's troubled mind or to give her the most honest answer.

"They fear it to be amnesia.. They're trying to determine if it is permanent or temporary. You must keep up hope, my lady! At least he is alive." She whispered, lowering her gaze.

Lothíriel swallowed back her tears, nodding in agreement. She was right. He was alive, and that was of the utmost importance.

"Let us hope then that it is temporary."

A few moments of calm silence passed between them, Lothíriel gazing out at the cloudy sky and Erfanaiel waiting patiently beside her.

"Your dinner is waiting inside, my lady. You should really be inside, where it is warm and dry."

She gave a nod and walked back inside, a Erfanaiel giving a sigh of relief as she followed in her wake.
It was several days later before Lothíriel would go near Éomer's room. While her heart screamed to go to him, she could not face his questioning gaze.

She buried herself in her work, focusing on the councils that had been delayed due to the royal couples maladies. She informed them that it would be "some time" before the King returned, and that they would have to deal with her till then.

She sat in his office, in his chair, behind his desk. The room seemed to be filled with memories of him, the scent so strong that she could have sworn he was there beside her. Pushing away another report from a recovering village, she rose and stretched her limbs. Éowyn was due to be there that day, and it was now almost dark. Closing her eyes, she prayed that Éowyn would arrive soon.

"Lothíriel.. Wake up." She felt a hand gently combing through her hair, and with a jerk she was awake. Blinking back the sleepy blur in her eyes, she saw that Faramir and Éowyn had arrived, though she could tell the hour was late.

"I must have dozed off.." She whispered as she straightened herself, finding that she had fallen asleep in Éomer's chair. She rose quickly and gave them both a brave smile. "Did you just get here?"

"Yes, we rode as fast as we could.. Where is Éomer?" Éowyn tried to look like she wasn't shaken, but tears had clearly been shed earlier.

Lothíriel felt the color drain from her face as Faramir linked arms with her and let her lead.

Upon arriving, Éowyn hurried into the room, and Faramir would have followed had Lothíriel not stopped him.

"What is it?" He looked at her, his hands resting on her shoulders.

"He will not know who you are, cousin."

"What?" He looked taken a back, and turned to go into the room again.

"I am serious." She hissed, grabbing him again. "He does not know who I am, nor you! He has lost his memory. He has been asking for his uncle and cousin."
"Éomer!" He looked up to find his sister at his side, and a bowl of broth in her hands.

"Not more broth." He groaned as he looked into her eyes. "Honestly, Éowyn, I cannot eat any more. I feel I shall be sick."

She frowned and sat the bowl down, her hands going to her hips. "You need to regain your strength! You lost a lot of blood, and your wounds are serious. It is a blessing that you have made it."

"Honestly, with you around Éowyn, I shall never need to find a wife. You nag enough for two." He snorted and crossed his arms over his chest as he glared up at her. "And I want out of this bed."

He seemed to miss the look of confusion and shock that passed over Éowyn's face, and she quickly turned around to leave the room. She paused and looked back at him for a second. "Listen to the healers or it will not go well for you." And with that she left.

With the door shut behind her, she grasped to Lothíriel. "You did not tell me he has lost his memory."

"The healers are still trying to decide the seriousness of it. They are quite sure it was a combination of loss of blood as well as a severe injury to his head. He should have died." She whispered as she looked to Éowyn, her face grim.

"He does not know who I am, so we had hoped that you could talk to him." She looked away from Éowyn, while Faramir rest his hand upon her shoulder.

"Of course, I shall speak with him now." She turned to the guards and began to speak to them before she walked back into Éomer's room.

"Come, Cos. There is nothing we can do now." Faramir gave her a strong smile.

"Back already?" Éomer questioned as he watched his sister enter with a grim look. "What is it, sister?"

She drew a chair by his bed and took his hand in hers. "There is much to say, Éomer. You must listen to me, no matter how odd it shall sound to you. Do you swear?"

He frowned at her. "You're acting peculiar.. But yes, I swear to listen."

She hesitated, turning her face slightly away from his questioning gaze. "Theodred.." She paused, tears gathering. The grief still seemed so fresh. "He is dead, Éomer. He has been dead for near on two years."

Éomer sat up quickly, almost too quickly. He sank back down, his head swimming as pain shot through his limbs, protesting his movement. Éowyn shot him a glare as he made to speak.

"You're supposed to be listening. You have lost your memory, Éomer. We have already faced the Great War. We won." She stopped, watching his reaction.

"You better be telling the truth. Where is Uncle?" But the look in her eyes told him enough. "No.."

"In the midst of the Great Battle of the Pelennor Fields before the gates of Minas Tirith, our Uncle drew his last breath." Her tears gathered again, and she rest her head lightly against his chest. "He died bravely, valiantly, and he is in a better place with Theodred."

A strange look of understanding passed over Éomer's face as he drew his fingers through Éowyn's hair. "Yes.. I know they are." He could remember the dream, remember the peaceful atmosphere and beautiful land. He breathed a sigh as Éowyn sat up, her hand tracing his face.

"But.. If Uncle is dead, who is..?"

Éowyn gave a little laugh and sat back in the chair. "Who do you think? Me?"

"Well, I know he left you in charge before we left the Dunharrow."

"Nay, Éomer. Tis not I. Tis you."

"It is a position I do not want, nor should have." He whispered as he bowed his head, and Éowyn swore she saw tears.

"There is no choice, Rohan needs you." She pleaded, her hands grasping his lightly.

"Tell me what has happened.. Has Sauron been defeated?"

And so Éowyn set about telling her brother all that she knew, excluding her own part in the battle. She could only face that kind of anger with her once in her life. She watched the range of emotions that he displayed, from the relief that they triumphed to the grief at the loss of so many of their people. Finally, she told him of her marriage to Faramir, and his expression gave her some amusement.

"You, married? Poor man."

"Éomer!" She was relieved to see him smile at her.

"Tell me how I came to be here, wounded and bed ridden."

"Only if you will eat this broth." He wrinkled up his nose but finally consented. As she helped him eat, she carefully thought over how she was going to tell him he had married as well. It was a sensitive subject, for the healers had warned her not to overload him. Pursing her lips together, she decided to tell him that he was married, but to let him figure out everything else out for himself. He was no child.
Days turned into weeks, and finally the King was allowed to rise from his bed. Lothíriel had not gone to see him, other than when she had to pass the room and she could hear his conversations with Éowyn and Faramir. Her heart twisted painfully at those moments, to know that he hardly even knew she existed. Again.

She threw herself into running the country, as winter was fast approaching. The heavy rains of summer would quickly turn to snow, and she had to prepare for a hard season. Supplies had to be distributed to the villages who had not faired as well, and she was exhausted nearly every day.

And then, one night, she was forced to deal with her husband as well.

She found it hard to sleep now, the bed seeming so empty and large without her husbands frame beside her. And so, she had taken to walking beyond the gates to just the edge of the plains, watching the stars and the moon. She found peace there, the sound of the rolling grass almost like the tides of the waves of her home.

As she sat there one night, her heavy cloak wrapped about her, she failed to hear the approach of another. It was only until the man passed right near that she startled and jerked to her feet, her instincts kicking in. But instantly she faltered back, seeing the powerful figure of Éomer standing there. He must not have noticed her, so lost in his thoughts he appeared to be, that he had passed right by there.

She turned to go, praying that he had not seen her. She had not stolen her heart away to deal with his questions. But she froze, as if turning to stone upon that spot, as she heard him speak.

"My lady?"

He watched as she turned to face him, this woman who had appeared nearly out of no where. Éowyn had told him that he was married, but she had said nothing about the woman. Nothing more than her name. Now, as Éomer stared into the stormy depth's of this stunning woman's eyes, he wondered if this was her. She was breathtaking. He found it hard to think as she looked at him, and her nobility told him there was something about her. He was attracted, that he was sure of, but he knew not if he had married this woman for love or duty.

"I am sorry to disturb you, my lord. I was simply going to retire when I saw you out here.. I had no wishes to intrude." She whispered, bowing her head slightly. Her hand moved against her navy blue skirts, and he saw the glint of her wedding ring.

"May I ask your name?" He tilted his head, studying her. Yes, he was definitely attracted to her.

"Lothíriel, my lord." She kept her head bowed, afraid to look him in the eyes.

Something about the way she seemed to be subdued by him made his heart twist painfully, as if she had been defeated by something. A fierce protectiveness rose in him and he fought back the urge to pull her into his embrace and hold her forever. He took a deep breath, recognizing her name. So this was his wife.

"May I ask.. How old the child is?" His eyebrow arched. Surely this woman did not love him. She was.. too beautiful, too noble. He must have..

"Child?" Her eyebrow arched as her head shot back up, and had it been day light he would have seen the angry blush on her face and neck. "There is no child. You must have misunderstood, my lord, for I was the Princess of Dol Amroth, Daughter of Prince Imrahil. I was not some whore that you impregnated and forced to marry!" She hissed as she gathered her skirts and hurried back up to the Golden Hall, leaving a bewildered Éomer behind her.
A/N; Next Chapter, SOON! I've started on it already. Again! I can't stop writing. The more reviews, the sooner the chapter!

Say, if I started a LJ community for all the readers & writers of A&A, E&F, and E&L, would anyone join? Let me know. Email me! Which you can find the address on my FFnet profile. x.o