Chapter 17:Two Pairs of Pretty Eyes

After breakfast Éomer approached Lothiriel as he nervously brushed his fingers through his hair. She was just rushing out the door when he caught her arm and escorted her to an area where no one would hear them. It was a small corridor, but it offered enough room to where neither felt too uncomfortable with the propinquity of the other.

When they reached an area where Éomer felt finally comfortable he turned to her and said in his most honorable voice, "My Lady, I wanted to apologize for last night."

"Apologize?" she was shocked. What would he have to say that needed apology?

"The kiss," he said almost in response to her thoughts, "it was inappropriate. I should not have taken advantage of you like that."

"My Lord—"

"No, my Lady, please do not discard it so simply. I am to blame for such behavior. I was drunk, and though I know that does not forgive me the offense, I still must lay some claim to that. I apologize, my Lady." His eyes were downcast so he could not see the tears in her eyes. He had meant no offense to her by the apology. He had just thought that it would be insulting to her maiden head to kiss a man she was not betrothed to, and her being a Princess made his guilt worse. She on the other hand, saw it as rejection. She wasn't sure why she cried, but she did know that her emotions were a little on the rocks since breakfast. She didn't know what to think or do, so she just brushed her hair out of her face and tried to stand with pride and dignity.

Then, she uttered a simple, "I accept your apology," and ran from the corridor trying not to make a sound as the tears fell upon her porcelain cheeks.

Behind her Éomer stared on in confusion.

The rest of the morning Lothiriel spent trying to think about other things. She went to the library and worked on learning Rohirric since this was the only place where common tongue was spoken less by the commoners than the nobility. In fact, unless good blood was mixed in their veins they would be far from the ability to learn other languages.

Later she had decided to go for a ride through the city rather than having lunch in the Great Hall where she would have to look on the young man who broke her heart. It was pleasant enough, and the air was crisp. The altitude made the wind harsh, though, and Lothiriel still had not gotten used to it. She could not believe it had actually been a week already, and she had to admit she had enjoyed it. The problem was every time she got closer to Éomer he slipped right out of her fingers, or so to speak. What made it worse was that she didn't truly know how she felt about him. He was a wonderful, amazing man who made her heart beat faster each time she saw him, but she didn't know if that meant she loved him, or even liked him. He wasn't like other boys, where one glance deemed whether she would like him or not. He had layers, very visible layers that made him both interesting and attractive (in more ways than just looks). It didn't help that she had no idea how he felt about her. She had to admit, though, that the last couple days had basically answered that question, however much she hated the fact. He didn't like her, she decided, so caring for him was a waste of time. That's what she told herself anyway. Meanwhile everything she saw in this city reminded her of his face.

So here she was—walking beside her horse with his reins in her hand. She felt the breeze and bright lights on her face as she lazily basked in the afternoon sun. Something about Rohan always intrigued her. The way they spent their days working in little shops that supported other families as well as their own. It was a community in all regards and it ran very smoothly. The women and old men worked in the shops, while their sons went into training to fight in eoreds. Some were lucky enough to make a good living for themselves. Those people mostly consisted of bread sellers (for even the poor had to eat, and bread is the cheapest they could get) and military elite families.

But here, where the roads converged in the middle of Edoras, hundreds of young and old came together in one place. They smiled and conversed in foreign tongues to old friends. It was the perfect image of simplicity. Lothiriel loved them for it.

"Excuse me, my lady," came a voice from behind Lothiriel as she was about to approach an apple seller. She spun around in shock that someone would recognize her, for no one here spoke in the common tongue nor called each other ladies and lords. What she saw when she whipped around was pleasantly blush worthy.

It was a young man with intense blue eyes, blonde hair (of course) and the most charming dimpled smile she had ever seen. He seemed very humbled by her, which was slightly a turn off. Ironically though, his looks humbled her the way her status humbled him. She felt plain in front of this sparkling eyed boy with muscular arms and proud shoulders. As she inspected closer she even noticed his height was that of a kingly gentleman rather than a poor servant boy.

"My Lady?" he asked again giving her worried eyes. She smiled back at him in response. "Are you lost, my Lady? I would be happy to escort you." He seemed eager to help her, which must have meant he worked in the castle. No one else could have known her from first sight. But she was so marveled by his demeanor and good looks she couldn't help but take advantage of the moment.

"Oh no, sir. I would much rather spend a day outside the stifling Great Hall. Perhaps a walk would do me good." She couldn't help it—she actually batted her eyelashes at her next words, "And you are?"

A/N: Ok, maybe I'm getting silly, but the chapters coming up are going to be very fun. If nothing else it will be fun to read the conversations. I'm sorry if it seems like I'm going no where with this story, but I promise I have a reason for everything, even if it isnt a very good reason. lol. Hope you like this chapter! Another one will besubmitted as soon as I can get it edited! Thanks and please review!