They had caught their first sight of Edoras not long after their midday break, a tiny patch of brown against the horizon of the mountains.

Now, in late afternoon, it was large enough for them to make out occasional glimpses of gold glinting off Meduseld in the sun.

Brynwyn had been delighted at Eomer's offer to ride with him, snuggling close while asking all manner of questions – about Firefoot, Meduseld, Edoras… he'd never heard her be so lively, indeed, would have been hard pressed to imagine such a thing.

And she was not alone. He and Aragorn were riding near the women, who were all chattering and speculating about Edoras and Meduseld. Many of their questions were asked of Lisswyn, but they didn't seem to mind when she didn't know the answers.

One of the men riding ahead of them gave a shout and Eomer looked up, immediately on the alert, his arm tightening around Brynwyn. The rider was pointing toward Edoras, and Eomer relaxed at the sight of the small dust cloud now rising from in front of the gates. Riders were coming toward them at a mad pace.

He could guess the identity of one of them and smiled at the thought of Eowyn. He'd sent riders ahead that morning to alert her to their arrival and was not at all surprised to see an escort coming out to welcome them home.

"Who are they?" Brynwyn sounded anxious, and he smiled at her, wondering how long it would take before she lost her essential nervousness.

"Members of my household. And unless I miss my guess, my sister will be among them."

"Lady Eowyn?" Her eyes were wide.

Eomer smiled again, nodded.

The women had gone silent, though excitement was still visible in their eyes.

He saw Lisswyn glance around, a look of dismay on her face, and recalled her desire to be walking when they reached Edoras.

It was pride, which he understood well enough, and remembering the efforts she had made in the cave to allow him to keep his intact, he pulled Firefoot to a halt.

Brynwyn looked up at him, and he gave her a reassuring smile. "I'm going to help your sister out of the cart. I believe she'd like to walk now."

The others had stopped when he did, and Aragorn was watching him, a curious look on his face.

After checking to make sure Brynwyn was secure on Firefoot, Eomer dismounted and stepped over to the cart. Lisswyn's expression was now puzzled, and he smiled.

"I thought perhaps you might like to walk awhile," he said softly.

She looked at the dust cloud signaling the approach of the riders, then gave him a smile of relief and gratitude as she nodded.

He took her hand and helped her down, then glanced over at Aragorn before turning back to her with a twinkle in his eyes. "But you must say so if you begin to feel dizzy. I do not wish to earn the wrath of your healer."

She smiled at him, turned to take in Aragorn as well. "I promise."

Eomer remounted, and they moved forward again, a little more slowly, while they watched the figures in the distance grow until they were distinguishable as individual riders. He could clearly see Eowyn out in front, Elfhelm and Grimbold on either side of her.

The riders finally stopped, and Eowyn came off her horse. "Hail, Eomer, King of the Mark!" she shouted joyfully, and ran toward him.

Laughing, Eomer jumped down and went to meet her, catching her as she threw herself into his arms. He hugged her tightly, realizing anew how much he'd missed her. Then she stepped back and looked at him, all traces of humor gone from her face. "We heard you were injured."

Instinctively, he moved his left arm, looked over at Lisswyn. "I was, but my wound was shallow and heals well."

Eowyn caught his glance, looked over at Lisswyn. She smiled, but the warmth of a moment earlier was gone. She walked over to where Lisswyn stood quietly next to the cart.

"You must be Lisswyn." At Lisswyn's nod, she continued, "The riders told us of you." She looked around, took in the rest of the women. "Of all of you, and what you have done." She glanced at Eomer, then back at Lisswyn. "We owe you a great debt, but never fear," she smiled. "We shall make sure you are well rewarded."

Eomer stared at her in shock. The women had taken him in, had risked their lives, given their lives, for no other reason than that they were Eorlingas and had believed it was the right thing to do. To talk of rewards was an insult, however kind the tone. But had Eowyn done it deliberately, or simply without thought? She wasn't given to impulsive speech.

Furious, he looked at Lisswyn, saw the insult register, with disbelief quickly replaced by hurt. Then her face went carefully blank. "We seek no rewards, my lady, but only to contribute such skills as we possess to aid Edoras in the aftermath of the war." She glanced at Eomer, her eyes once again reflecting hurt puzzlement. "We were given to understand we would be welcome there."

Eomer forced back the heated words that wanted to spew toward his sister, and stepped forward. "And so you will be." His glance took in all the women, and his anger at Eowyn grew as he saw that hesitant, anxious looks on their faces now replaced the excitement of earlier. Had they not suffered enough?

He turned to Eowyn, made no attempt to hide his displeasure. "Perhaps you should return to the city and make sure all is ready for our return. All of us," he snapped.

The anger that flashed in her eyes was quickly banked, then replaced by shame and regret as she looked around at the women. "Of course." She turned to leave, then hesitated, turned back. "Forgive me for not making it clear that you will be welcome," she said quietly. "I only meant to thank you."

She left, and grimly Eomer wondered if anyone else had noticed that her gaze had been on the other women, had avoided Lisswyn, during her final comments. He looked at Lisswyn, saw her look of tired resignation, and had his answer.

He stepped close to her. "Please accept my apologies as well for my sister's greeting. She has no doubt been very anxious for my return, and did not mean that the way it came out."

Her expression was distant and clearly disbelieving when she replied. "No apology is necessary, sire. Think nothing of it."

Sire. She spoke to him as she might as stranger, and it did nothing to improve his mood. He nodded, turned and held up his arms for Brynwyn. Setting the little girl on the ground, he looked over at Aragorn. "I should probably return to the city, reassure them of my health and meet with my advisors."

Aragorn nodded. "I will remain with the escort."

"Thank you." With one final glance at Lisswyn's expressionless face, he mounted Firefoot and rode off in the direction Eowyn had gone, surrounded by his guard.

They watched him depart, and then King Elessar motioned for them to begin moving again. Brynwyn, a confused and troubled expression on her face, walked as close as possible to Lisswyn. Lisswyn suspected the little girl wasn't entirely sure of what had happened, that her nervousness was a reflection of the changed atmosphere around her.

"I don't understand," Brecka finally said. "Why did Lady Eowyn speak of rewards? Does she believe us to be mercenaries? Does she not know we're Eorlingas?"

Lisswyn didn't answer right away, wasn't sure how to. That the King's sister had greeted them with such talk was as confusing as it was insulting. Was that what she thought? That they sought rewards for taking the King in, caring for him? Her gaze turned to Eoden and Andric, walking somberly on the other side of the cart. As if any amount of reward would make up for what they'd lost.

Rewards were for strangers who might otherwise not have bothered, not for Eorlingas willingly doing their duty.

"Oh, she knows we're Eorlingas," Hilde spoke, bitterness in her tone. "She wants us to understand that despite that, we will still be refugees in the hall – welcome, because of what we did for the King. But refugees nonetheless."

Lisswyn looked over at them, saw the fear in Brecka's eyes that seemed to emphasize how young the other woman really was, saw the weariness and sorrow that was behind Hilde's bitterness.

For the sake of the other women, she pushed her own hurt and confusion aside. "No," she said firmly. "We don't know any of that. We don't know what she meant, or why she said it, but the Lady herself said she was only trying to thank us. And the King has said we will be welcome in Edoras. Let's not assume otherwise."

She looked away from them, saw King Elessar watching her, an approving look in his dark eyes. When he saw that she was watching him, he lowered his head once, deliberately, as if in acknowledgement of what she had said, then turned to address one of his guards.

He knew Lady Eowyn, and without saying a word, had seemed to approve of Lisswyn's response to the women, and that was encouraging.

But it was all still very confusing. She looked around at the women once more, and sighed quietly. They were refugees, but she had hoped they might find a home in Edoras, a place to belong, to begin rebuilding their lives. But if the King was wrong, and the rest of the inhabitants of Edoras saw them only as strangers to be taken in and sheltered primarily because they'd cared for the King, then that peace and a new beginning might be long in coming.

She'd heard many things about the Lady Eowyn – that she was a skilled swordswoman; that there was a deep bond between her and her brother; that she had fought and won great renown in the war; that she was to marry a prince. And yes, that she could come across as cool and untouchable. But Lisswyn had never heard it even whispered that she could be so rude.

Her renewed anger at the insult – if that was what it was – faded, replaced again by weariness. It didn't really matter what the Lady had intended. She'd succeeded in reawakening their anxiety about their arrival in Edoras. They might eventually be able to feel at home at there, but it wasn't going to be easy. Why had she thought it would be? Because the King had somehow made it seem so? No matter how good his intentions, he wasn't going to have time to spend with a group of refugees, and it was best to keep that in mind.

By the time they reached the city gates, Lisswyn was nearly staggering in exhaustion, and only pride kept her moving. She would not now go back into the cart, not when they were so close to entering the city.

She looked up, saw King Elessar watching her, a knowing expression on his face. But beyond awareness of her exhaustion, something else was there as well, as if he understood why she wanted so desperately to walk into the city rather than ride in the cart.

Once they were through the gates and she saw the steep path rising up in front of her, she nearly changed her mind. How could she manage such a march? Grimly, she bent her head, ignored the dizziness, and took the next step, barely aware of King Elessar speaking softly to the boys, or their sudden appearance on either side of her, helping her.

It was foolish pride. She knew that. But somehow, for reasons she could not guess, they'd seemingly already made a bad impression on the King's sister. How could she shy away from a mere climb up a hill, when the Lady Eowyn had faced – and defeated – the Witchking in battle? Obviously, there could be no comparison between the two of them. She was no shieldmaiden. But she would arrive at Meduseld walking.

They were nearly to the top when she heard a whisper move through the women. She looked up to see the Lady Eowyn coming towards them, accompanied by a man and woman. She sighed, took the opportunity to rest against the cart for a moment.

Eowyn came, stood in front of her. She glanced around at the other women, then looked long and hard at Lisswyn, and her eyes grew troubled.

"Again, please accept my apologies for what I said earlier. It truly was not my intention to offend you."

Since the other woman seemed to require some sort of response, Lisswyn nodded while fighting back tears of weariness and confusion. "I understand, my Lady." It was a lie, of course. At the moment, she understood nothing but exhaustion.

Eowyn made a sound of annoyance, and Lisswyn jerked her head up in panic. What had she done now?

"You fool." Though the word was harsh, Eowyn spoke softly, for Lisswyn's ears alone, and there was little heat in her tone. "You look as if you're about to pass out." She glanced up at the other women, and appeared to note their subdued, anxious expressions as well. "My brother will have my head for certain for this."

Shaking her head, she turned, motioned the man forward. He looked to be only a few years older than Lisswyn, perhaps a year or two older than the King. Eowyn now addressed all of them. "This is Ealdred, the King's steward. He will be assisting you, in a day or two – once you have rested – in settling in. And this," she motioned the woman forward, "is Meduseld's housekeeper, Betta. She will show to your temporary chambers. I'm certain that you'll want to be settled as quickly as possible in your new homes, but please know that you are welcome in the hall for as long as necessary."

She smiled at them as she spoke, and the women gave her hesitant smiles in return. The smile looked genuine, so it must be only herself that had somehow earned the displeasure of Lady Eowyn. But what had she done?

Too weary to ponder it, she noted that Betta was motioning them to follow her, which Lisswyn did gratefully.

It was very late by the time Eomer finally escaped from a hastily called meeting of his council. The men had alternated between telling him how glad they were he was home, and bleating about his injury and the orcs. As far as he could discern, nothing particularly useful had been accomplished, but perhaps when they resumed in the morning, he would succeed in moving them from worrying about the orcs to deciding what steps to take next.

He walked into the main hall, wanting food, ale, to see Lisswyn, and to avoid his sister. Eventually he and Eowyn would have to talk, but he needed a little more time before that confrontation happened.

He saw her seated at the table where they normally took their meals, and then saw most of the women and children, minus Lisswyn and Liffild, at a table in the opposite corner. He walked over to them, motioned them down when several of them started to their feet, then settled on one of the benches. "How are you?" His glance took in the entire group, and he tried not to let his disappointment at Lisswyn's absence show.

"We are fine, sire." Hilde answered the question, her voice quiet. There were several nods, but it was hard to believe this was the same animated group he had been part of just that morning. Surely their demeanor could not all be due to Eowyn's earlier comment? Even Brynwyn was sitting quietly next to Hilde, a solemn look on her face. And the boys were on the other side of her, neither of them as animated as he was used to seeing.

"Where are Lisswyn and Liffild?"

"They are both resting, my lord."

He frowned. "Are they—"

"They are fine, sire." Brecka answered. "Just tired from the journey."

He nodded, and accepting that the easy camaraderie they'd shared on the journey was lost, he stood, reluctantly deciding to take his meal in his chambers. "Please let me know if you need anything."

Several of them nodded, and Hilde answered, apparently for all of them. "Thank you, sire." It was clear that none of them would do so.

Discouraged, he headed toward his rooms, knowing that shortly one of his attendants would bring him his meal.

Once in his chambers, he paced, unable to settle. He'd wanted the women to be happy here, and it hurt to see them sitting there, looking so lost. Maybe it was natural in some respects that they would feel hesitant and unsure, but then what were the steps that would help them feel settled?

Perhaps Aragorn would have some suggestions. He must have had many refugees coming to Minas Tirith after the war. He would ask him in the morning.

A knock came, and he absent-mindedly said, "Come."

But instead of one of the kitchen staff with his meal, it was Eowyn bearing the tray. "Now is not a good time, Eowyn."

"When would be? You've avoided me since your return, and we must speak sometime."

He sighed, nodded. Started over to the table where she'd placed the tray.

"I truly did not mean to upset them, Eomer."

He looked up at her, heard the frustration in her voice, and his own anger returned. "Did you not? Tell me, sister of mine, if Aragorn had offered you a reward for your feat on the Pelennor, what would have been your response?"

She stared at him for a long, shocked moment. "That was different!"

"How? Please tell me. I really want to know." He nearly winced himself at the sarcasm he had not bothered to suppress.

"It was a battle—"

"And you don't consider going up against orcs that outnumber you ten to one a battle? My apologies, then. Much of what I've considered battles in my life apparently was not!"

"You're not being fair."

"Maybe not. But what I know is that those women and children have suffered great losses in the past few months, even more in the past few days, and did it with no less courage and grace than would any soldier in Edoras. And the most recent losses they suffered because of me. Because they would not turn their back on me even once they understood the danger. For no other reason than because I'm their King and they're Eorlingas." He looked back at her, eyes blazing in renewed indignation. "And then you greet them with talk of rewards."

"I was trying to spare her from being hurt."

Ah. Here it was. It was no longer "them" but "her." Lisswyn. "From what kind of hurt, exactly? She's already nearly died, has lost a friend who was like a sister to her."

"Wiglaf indicated that it has become clear that the woman…has feelings for you."

Wiglaf. Eomer grimaced. The young man was a good rider, and loyal, but not the most discreet. And he'd been infatuated with Eowyn since he was younger than Andric. He had probably not been the best choice of riders to send ahead to Edoras.

"I see."

"The sooner she realizes nothing can come of it, the less the hurt for her."

Temper blew through him, and then died, leaving unreasonable hurt in its wake. "Is that so? Tell me…why can nothing come of it?"

She looked startled. "You are to marry Lothiriel."

For a long moment, he just gaped at her while he tried to find his voice. When he did, it was full of bitterness. "I see. How nice of you to explain that. Pray tell me, when will the nuptials be? And have you so informed my bride?"

"Eomer, why are you being so difficult? I do not understand."

There was genuine confusion and distress on her face, which oddly enough only increased his frustration. Stalking over to the table, he picked up a goblet, and contemplated drinking from it – then turned and hurled it at the wall. "Because I'm not marrying the Princess of Dol Amroth!" he shouted. "At least not unless a great deal has been decided without my involvement!" He looked back at her, hands fisted at his side. "Who told you I and the Princess would wed?"

He knew the answer before she gave it.

"Faramir."

Naturally. He pulled out a chair, sat, rubbed his eyes tiredly. When he looked up after a long moment, he saw tears of distress in Eowyn's eyes, and groaned.

"Don't weep. Please."

"I'm sorry." She turned, pressed her lips together. "I'm just confused."

"Faramir suggested the possibility of a match between his cousin and me, and both Imrahil and I agreed it mightwork. I met the Princess for less than an hour after Aragorn's coronation, was to meet her again when I escort you to Minas Tirith." He measured his words carefully. "But nothing was ever decided for certain. Imrahil was torn between thinking Lothiriel and I might suit, and in not wanting to lose his daughter to the Mark. And for all I know, the woman in question may have already decided she'd rather stay by the sea."

Eowyn's face brightened. "Oh, but you've met her, then. I was not aware of that. And you did not dislike her, I take it?"

He stared at her, wondered when she'd become so obtuse. "No. I did not dislike her."

When Eowyn would have spoken again, he raised his hand, cut her off. "I'm guessing Wiglaf said nothing about my apparently returning Lisswyn's feelings?"

"I thought he must have misunderstood your being kind to her." She frowned. "Eomer, you can't have fallen in love in such a short period of time?"

"Time is measured differently when you're waiting to die. You, of all people, should know that." His voice was quiet.

"Yes." Her voice was soft as well. "But…"

He raised an eyebrow. "But?"

"I also know that emotions experienced during such times of stress are unreliable."

"Eowyn, have you ever known me to give my heart to someone?" A heart that was currently aching. If Eowyn would not even consider supporting him, what chance had he that Faramir would? That Imrahil would understand?

There was a long pause, and her eyes were troubled when she answered. "No. No, you've seldom appeared to be even aware of anything other than horses or battles." She paused, then continued in a voice that sounded as if she were nearly begging, "But is it not possible these feelings you're having will fade?"

"If I've reached this age without experiencing them before, I doubt it." He sighed.

"Eowyn, why does it matter so much? Contrary to what Faramir indicated to you in his enthusiasm, nothing was ever confirmed. Perhaps the Princess would not even have me, or her father would decide he could not bear to see his only daughter move so far away."

She didn't respond right away, instead walked over to pick up the goblet he'd thrown. When she looked back up, her voice was quiet. "Faramir and I were both happy at the thought of another bond between the Mark and Gondor. I thought you would be, as well."

"How many more bonds do we need?" His voice was weary. "How much closer can we be, than for you to wed the Prince of Ithilien, and for Aragorn and me to have the relationship we do?"

"But if you were to wed the Princess of Dol Amroth…" she fell silent for a moment. "You could at least try. You could give these feelings you have for Lisswyn a chance, to see if they're real, and still meet with Lothiriel."

He stared at her, completely baffled. "And then what? If my feelings prove completely fickle for Lisswyn, and the Princess agrees to wed me, then I've only wounded Lisswyn, and everyone else is happy." Sarcasm laced his tone again. "But what if the Princess comes to love me, and my feelings don't change? What then?"

Her look back at him was troubled.

"I'll tell you what would happen then." His voice was bitter. "I would feel compelled to wed Lothiriel to avoid dishonoring the Riddermark. In doing so, I would dishonor her, of course, since I doubt she'd appreciate marriage to a man whose heart was elsewhere. But you and Faramir would at least be happy. How nice that one of us should be allowed to marry for love and have a happy life. And how unfortunate that you're willing to see me forgo those pleasures as long as I marry where you would have me do so."

It was a low blow, and he knew it. He watched the blood drain from his sister's face, and didn't care. His own heart was bleeding in a dozen places from her betrayal. He turned, paced over to stare at his yet-untouched meal.

"Eomer…" there were tears in her voice, but he hardened his heart to them, swallowed against his own despair.

She cleared her throat, tried again. "I did not mean that. Surely you must know that."

He turned, looked at her. Allowed her to see his own hurt. "What I know is that for the first time in my life, I've found someone to love, and that you rejected her without even finding out the truth of the situation; that instead, you want me to pursue a relationship that might or might not work out, apparently because you like the idea of my being wed to your future husband's cousin – and that's more important than me, than my happiness, my future. What part of that isn't true?" he finished, a little desperately.

Tears were trickling down her cheeks. "The part about my not wanting your happiness." She turned her face, wiped at the tears.

And his own heart broke. He held open his arms. "Eowyn."

She walked over to him, laid her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know it's foolish, but I just liked the idea of there being another connection between us. I love Faramir as much as it's possible to love, but I'm going…" she paused, swallowed hard then continued, "going to miss you, so much."

He tightened his arms around her, kissed the top of her head. "And I'm going to miss you." He said softly. "But our relationship will stand, regardless of whether you're in Ithilien and I am here. It does not need another bond to strengthen it. We will see each other as often as circumstances allow, and Aragorn and I have spoken of trying to establish at least a semi-regular messenger service between here and Gondor."

She nodded, wiped her face on his shoulder, then looked up at him, a weak smile showing through the remaining tears. "Tell me about her."

He frowned in confusion.

"Lisswyn. Tell me about her. Please."

There was a long pause as he hesitated. What could he say? How should he say it?

"Don't do that."

"Don't do what?" He looked at her in puzzlement.

"Don't think about it too much. I will not judge her harshly. I already admire her," she admitted with a slight smile. "I just want to understand why you love her."

"It's hard to know where to begin." He started slowly, then paused again. "She's brave, but I've known other women of courage. Perhaps it's that I can so clearly see her fear, and yet she goes forward anyway, does what needs to be done." He faltered, shook his head. "I could tell you of her compassion, her kindness, her wit…and they would be just words."

"But…" he stared off, above his sister's head, remembering. "…perhaps I should tell you when I first suspected I loved her." He looked down, noted the gleam of interest in Eowyn's eyes.

"At great risk to herself, Lisswyn had gone out hunting for the herbs that would treat my poisoned arm. She found some, and did her best to treat it, but there had been a long delay by then, and even once the pain was gone, there was no guarantee I would regain its use." He flexed his left arm, remembering. "The orcs were camped outside the caves, and I knew we needed to begin preparing for battle. I'd been feeling very sorry for myself, wondering how I would manage – assuming any of us survived the orcs – with only one arm. How I could lead our people, what it would be like to daily face the pity of people who thought me worthless because of things I could not do for myself."

"Lisswyn brought me a clean shirt, and must have realized immediately that I would never be able to put it on myself." He glanced down at Eowyn, knew that even now, the memory of the situation was causing heat to rise in his cheeks. "And she helped me put it on, but in a matter of fact way that allowed me to retain my pride. There was no pity, and she did not do more than was necessary, leaving me to do what I could. And all the while, she was asking me questions about the orc situation, making it clear that she viewed me as no less a warrior because I only had one arm."

He sighed. "I know that doesn't make any sense, but I suddenly knew that I could trust her. That she would always see past whatever the image was, be it King or one-armed man, and respond to me accordingly. And I wanted that."

She cleared her throat, hugged him. "It makes sense. And I can only be grateful that you had someone like that with you," she whispered.

"There's more." He paused. "Somehow, without forgetting that I am King, or losing sight of my role, she sees that I am more than that. We discussed my temper – which she has been on the receiving end of, several times," he smiled a bit wryly, "and even there, she helped me see that there is more to me than my anger. Gave me hope that others see that, too, that my temper will not be the destruction of the Mark."

He groaned. "Eowyn, I cannot do this. You know I have no words when they matter. I do not know how to explain her, only to say that she seems to see me in a way no one else ever has, in a way that makes me believe I can do this, can be King, can lead the Riddermark well…and be happy while doing so."

There were tears in her eyes again, and she leaned up, kissed his cheek. "Then I could ask for nothing more of her. Your happiness and contentment in this role you've been plunged into is all I have ever wanted for you. Please believe me." One of the tears leaked out, rolled down her cheek.

He brushed it away, kissed her cheek. "I know that. I'm sorry I was so harsh." He had to clear his throat. "It hurt to think that my marrying the Princess of Dol Amroth was more important to you than my happiness."

She shook her head. "It wasn't. Not really. I just lost sight of the need to trust you with your own heart and happiness."

"Given how seldom I've paid attention to them, maybe that's not all that surprising," he managed a grin.

She smiled back, then the humor faded. "I'm sorry for what I said to her."

"I think you will find her most generous in forgiving you if you approach her."

Eowyn nodded. "She would need to be if she is to be queen." Her eyes grew shadowed again. "Eomer, forgive me, but…"

"You wonder what kind of queen she will make?"

She nodded.

"Those women would follow her into Mordor itself; some have already done so." He thought of Maegwen, of Brecka. "If that is not leadership, what is?" After a pause, he said, "That does not mean there won't be much for her to learn. And even Aragorn cautioned me that she might love me, but not the idea of being queen. But I believe she can do it, and who could be a more sympathetic queen to our people than one who has recently lost everything?"

"She could use your help, though." He finished quietly, and held his breath. He was winning her over, he knew that. But would she be willing to actually help Lisswyn?

Eowyn slowly nodded. "Have you spoken of any of this to her?"

He shook his head. "No. I must first speak to Imrahil and Faramir." He grimaced. "As I said, nothing was ever actually confirmed, but I still must tread carefully to avoid giving any appearance of dishonor to the Princess of Dol Amroth."

She nodded again. "You know that of the two of them, Faramir may be more unhappy with you than Imrahil?"

"So Aragorn indicated."

She smiled, reached up to touch his cheek. "But Faramir is also a man in love," she said a bit smugly. "He will not long begrudge you your happiness."

Eomer laughed, hugged her.

She returned the hug, then pulled away, motioned to the food on the tray. "I will fetch you some more wine. You should eat and then get some rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day." As he moved to do her bidding, she finished with, "I will begin the day by apologizing to Lisswyn."

"Thank you." His voice was quiet.

She nodded. "It's going to be difficult if I can not explain about Lothiriel. But I will figure it out." She smiled, turned to go. Then looked back at him. "Eomer."

He looked up, about to put a piece of bread in his mouth.

"I am truly glad you've found her."

He put the roll down, untouched, and came, hugged her hard for a long moment. "Thank you," he said again.

A/N: For a number of reasons (mostly involving the rather complex character of Eowyn) this was a difficult chapter to write and revise. Hopefully it makes sense, and the next chapter continues exploring some of this. I would have included it here, but this already seemed long enough!

Again, thanks so much for your reviews. You make my day.