Two days later, Lisswyn stood in the hall with Brynwyn, baffled. It was mid-afternoon, and the hall was nearly empty. Although unusual for this time of day, it was not the lack of people in the hall that had her puzzled. It was the absence of Tille. Her understanding had been that it was possible to get something light to eat – bread, cheese, tea – at any time of the day, even when regular meals weren't being served. But Tille didn't seem to be around, and with the main door to the kitchen still locked, she didn't know how to acquire what Liffild had asked for.

She looked down into Brynwyn's equally confused eyes. Liffild was almost certainly going to birth her babe in the next day or two, and her appetite had been unpredictable. Having missed both the morning and the noon meal, she had suddenly decided she was hungry, and had asked for a small bite of something.

But in Tille's absence, Lisswyn didn't know how to provide it for her. Where was Betta? Surely the housekeeper would know where the young woman was, or would be willing to assist her?

Annoyance began to replace her confusion. It was ridiculous that they were in Meduseld, the very heart of the Riddermark, and a pregnant woman was going to go hungry because of an absent serving girl. Grimly, she marched toward the front of the hall, turned to the side of the King's dais. If this door was locked as well, she'd find the King himself. He might ignore her; he wouldn't ignore Liffild's needs.

The door was ajar, and she pushed on it, called out softly. There was no response, so she turned, looked down at Brynwyn. "Stay here." If the cook was as temperamental as rumor had it, there was no point in increasing his agitation by taking a child into his domain.

"Hello?" she called again as she walked in. The kitchen appeared to be empty, which made sense. The man probably had to rest sometime. It no doubt took a great deal of energy to feed all of Meduseld and a substantial portion of Edoras while managing to intimidate apparently everyone. But she was glad for the vacancy. Perhaps she could slip in and out without a confrontation.

The kitchen was larger than she'd expected, but that made sense, given the amount of effort it must take to feed so many people. She looked around, spied what she was looking for across the room on a long counter – loaves of bread, one already cut, and several rounds of cheese.

She sliced some bread, had just finished adding several slices of cheese to it when she heard a noise. Turning, she started, backed up against the counter without thought. The man coming toward her was huge. Darker than most men she knew, he was also completely livid.

"What are you doing in here? No one comes in here. No one is allowed in here." He stalked closer to her, grabbed her arm, shook her. "No one."

Lisswyn stiffened her back, tried to yank free, her earlier annoyance coming back, replacing the start he'd given her. "I was seeking a light meal for—"

"I don't care what you were doing. No one comes in here!" he shouted, shoved her again.

Hearing another noise, they both glanced over, and she saw others coming into the kitchen. Betta, Tille – it figured that the young woman would show up now – several others of the staff.

He looked down at the bread and cheese, and his hand tightened on her arm, no doubt leaving bruises. "You're a thief!"

Furious and embarrassed, Lisswyn jerked again. "No! I told you – I wanted—"

He shook her until her teeth rattled. "I don't care what your excuse is. No one comes in here," he snarled. "I'm going to—"

"Going to what, Hunlaf?" The King's voice cut through the threat, and Lisswyn suppressed a groan. He came toward them, his voice deceptively calm, a calmness belied by the temper flashing in his eyes. Behind him, Lisswyn saw Eowyn, the marshal Elfhelm, King Elessar, Ealdred, and several others she didn't know. She sighed silently at having caused an interruption to what had no doubt been an important meeting. Then she saw Brynwyn, peeking nervously around the door. That explained the presence of the King. He must have been just been in his study, just across the hall from the kitchen.

"Sire." The cook spit the word in tone that wasn't civil, let alone respectful. "I caught this woman—" he shook Lisswyn again, and she couldn't prevent a wince as his fingers tightened, "—stealing."

The insult registered, and her own anger came back. Finally jerking her arm free, Lisswyn glared at him, then turned to the King, frustration from the last several days erupting all at once. "I was not stealing! Liffild missed meals earlier today, and asked for something to eat. I called for Tille, and no one came."

Afraid she was going to say something else, something unforgivably rude, Lisswyn snapped her mouth closed, then turned, picked up the bread and cheese. "Excuse me, my Lord," she said through gritted teeth, before turning and leaving the kitchen, the glint in her eyes daring anyone to try to detain her.

Eowyn watched her go, cheered her silently. Lisswyn had backbone, and displaying it in front of Hunlaf was going to earn her the respect of the rest of the staff. She turned back, watched her brother move closer to the cook.

"You're not going to let her just walk out like that," Hunlaf snapped.

Betta inhaled at the tone the man was taking, but for a long moment no one else made a sound, and Eowyn realized Eomer was trying mightily to keep his temper. It surprised her that he was even trying, given the way Hunlaf had been manhandling Lisswyn when they'd arrived in the kitchen.

Apparently the cook didn't realize how close to the edge he was hovering. "She was in my kitchen!" He was whining now.

"Whose kitchen?" Eomer's voice was quiet. Nearly pleasant. Eowyn saw Ealdred step back in spite of himself. A quiet tone could be more dangerous than when her brother shouted.

The cook lifted his chin. "Mine. I rule here, lord. Not you."

Someone gasped, but Eowyn didn't look away to see who it was.

His hands fisted at his sides, Eomer moved even closer. The cook might have been a large man, but Eomer still stood taller. "What? Would you repeat that, please?" He didn't give Hunlaf a chance to do so. "You don't rule anywhere. You may be the best cook in all the Riddermark, but I will not have guests in Meduseld, or even other members of this household, mistreated by you. You can be removed."

"Your uncle—"

It was a mistake.

Eomer slapped a hand down on the counter. "I am not my uncle," he said. "And I am sorry for that. And I," his eyes, hot with temper, roved around the room before returning to the cook. "am not Theodred. And I am even sorrier for that." His voice was very quiet, very even. He stepped closer to the cook, got in the man's face. Eowyn watched Hunlaf take a step back, self-preservation finally kicking in. "But I AM the King of the Mark. And I will not tolerate that kind of abuse in this household. Is that clear?" he ended on a roar.

Hunlaf didn't respond right away, and Eomer's expression grew more threatening, if such were possible. He grabbed the cook's tunic, shook him. Was it possible the fool still didn't fully understand his danger?

Hunlaf finally jerked his head in stiff acknowledgement.

Eomer released him, turned, and stalked out.

Elfhelm looked at Eowyn. "I believe your brother has finally claimed the throne."

Eomer, still furious, stormed through the hall. Remembering the way Hunlaf had shaken Lisswyn, he wished he'd followed his initial impulse and simply throttled the man. He paused outside the room where the women were staying, tried to calm himself. No point in scaring Liffild with his anger.

The door opened, and Hilde came out. She seemed startled to see him. "Sire?"

"I'm searching for Lisswyn, Hilde."

The other woman frowned. "She's not here. She sent Brynwyn back with bread and cheese for Liffild, but did not return herself. Brynwyn said she told her she was going for a walk. I gather something unfortunate happened?"

Eomer nodded before turning and heading toward the great doors of the hall. He was relieved to see Thedhelm serving as one of the door wardens. "Lisswyn?"

The younger man did not pretend to misunderstand. He nodded out, down the steps. "Headed away from the hall, sire. Possibly toward the gate and out of Edoras."

Eomer nodded, motioned to Thedhelm and two others standing guard with him. "Come with me." Elfhelm would fuss if he left the city without taking guards with him; the men could also serve as discreet chaperones when he found her.

He'd been trying to walk a fine line of not singling her out without being completely rude. Alas, on one occasion, he hadn't managed it, and watching the hurt come into her eyes as he'd walked by her had nearly undone him. But what was he supposed to do? As oblivious as he was to such things, even he knew that Alfild was the biggest gossip in the court, and she'd been sitting right there, watching them.

For the most part, he tried not to be wherever Lisswyn was, figuring his absence was easier to explain than was his being rude to her. But not seeing her was separate problem in terms of his own mood.

Lisswyn's fury carried her out of Meduseld and down the road through the city. Later, she'd be amused at the way both women and men moved out of her path.

What was wrong with these people? A pregnant woman dared ask for something to eat, and it caused a crisis requiring the attendance of both the King of the Mark and that of Gondor?

She reached the great gates of the city, a little surprised to see them open. But as she marched through them, she realized that King Elessar's men were camped just outside the walls. With so much coming and going, it probably made more sense to leave the gates open. And the army itself provided security that the open gates could not

She turned, started around the wall, away from the encampment. She needed to be alone, needed some time to work through her anger.

It was not all directed at that idiot cook. Thief, indeed. She growled in frustration.

Looking around, she realized that she was now among the mounds of the dead kings. Her pace slowed, and she sighed, leaned against the wall, looked out over the mounds.

Edoras was not as she'd imagined it. Neither was the King's hall. For the first time, she rather wistfully wished she were still back in the caves. It was nice having plenty of food, but if you had to fight for it, what was the point? She brought her hand up, raised her sleeve to stare at the bruises on her arm.

Hearing a noise, she looked up, saw the King and three of his guard coming toward her.

Pretending not to have seen them, she turned, started walking again. She wasn't up to an encounter with the King. She simply wasn't. She'd seen him only from a distance since the afternoon he had snubbed her and the hurt was still too sharp.

At least some of the women were starting to warm to her again, apparently due to her willingness to help Ceolwyn. She grimaced, wondered if this latest encounter with the cook would once again cause problems in that area.

She slowed and gave a quick glance behind her, but didn't see the King. That was good. Perhaps he had realized she wanted to be left alone, and had returned to Meduseld. Why that caused a twinge of disappointment, she didn't know. She had wanted to be left alone.

"Lisswyn." He stepped out from behind one of the burial mounds, and she jerked, startled.

"My lord." With a sigh, she gave up, turned, sat down next to the wall. It was rude, of course, for her to sit when he wasn't, and it violated all kinds of protocol. She didn't care. What was he going to do? Throw her in one of the dungeons? Banish her from Edoras? She should be so fortunate.

He sat down next to her, and for a moment, there was silence. She saw the guards a little distance away, and it confused her. Did they really think it was dangerous out here?

Finally, she grew tired of the silence. "If you've come to tell me off for violating the cook's sanctuary, sire, I would ask that you wait. I've had my fill of being bellowed at today."

"That's good. I've had my fill of yelling at people." There was humor in his tone, but she wasn't yet ready to look at him. "I think I just dismissed my cook."

At that, she did look up. "You didn't."

"I did." He sighed, and started to take her hand, but she pulled it away, tucked it close to her body, too confused to want to be touched. He was acting the way he always did with her, as if nothing had happened. And that nearly made the hurt worse.

He shifted away from her in response, cleared his throat. "I'm sorry for what just happened in the kitchen." He hesitated. "The cook before Hunlaf used to regularly – if accidentally – poison people. And because Hunlaf knew what he was doing, my uncle allowed him to get away with more and more. But there's no excuse for what he did to you today."

Something in his tone had her looking up again, and the weariness and discouragement she saw in his eyes caused her to forget everything except finding a way to reduce that look. "Sire…I think perhaps he's not quite stable." Her lips twitched.

"I think you're right," he said, and managed a grin. Then he turned more serious. "How is your arm? I saw how hard he was gripping you."

"It's fine." Uncomfortable, she pulled her arm to her body.

He pulled it back, this time refused to let her overrule him, and slid the sleeve up. Gently touching the bruises, he swore. "I should have killed him for this," he muttered. "I may still."

Startled, she glanced up, into grim eyes. Pulling her arm away, she pushed the sleeve down. "I'm fine, sire. I've had worse." She looked away, and silence fell again as she tried to figure out whether she dared ask him about what had happened that day in the hall, when he'd acted as if she wasn't there. No. There was no point. While she wasn't surprised he'd come to check on her, it changed nothing.

"Lisswyn…" His expression was now troubled. "There are things happening that I can't really explain to you. I know that's unfair, but I'm going to ask you to trust me. And shortly I hope to be able to make things clearer."

Baffled, she frowned at him. What was he talking about? The women in Edoras? His own behavior? The cook?

"Will you?"

"I'm sorry, sire. I really don't understand. Will I what?"

"Trust me."

It was hard to say yes when she had no idea what he was talking about. But of course she trusted him. He was the king. Aware that the hurt she'd been living with had eased, though nothing had really changed, she slowly nodded her head. Relief came into his eyes, and that, the knowledge that her trust mattered that much to him, eased her heart further.

He stood. "I don't like the idea of you out here by yourself. Will you come back with me? We'll stop at the stables and I'll introduce you to Breghelm. I know I've failed to keep that promise to you."

Lisswyn nodded, and he reached down, helped her up.

"I know how busy you've been, sire."

"Thank you for that. It's still no excuse." His voice was firm as they turned, started back around the wall.

A/N: It's short, but another part should be along this weekend. I hope you all enjoy this one -- the scene in the kitchen is one my favorites in the entire story.

Phia commented on thinking the title of the last chapter was referring to Lisswyn and Eomer rather than Lisswyn's relationships in Edoras. My apologies for misleading you! I like to come up with good names (which give hints/summarize without giving too much away) when I can, but sometimes it's tricky.

Nienor asked about the name 'Jocosa.' I agree, it doesn't sound very Rohirric, but I did find it in the same list of Anglo-Saxon names I've used for most of the others. Part of the problem is that there are fewer feminine names than masculine ones; I'm also trying to find names that don't sound similar to another name already in use as well as ones I personally find appealing. With Ceolwyn's daughter, I was having trouble finding one that matched all those requirements, and since the name was was on the list, I decided that perhaps Ceolwyn and Eothain indulged in a bit of whimsy with their oldest child and went with an unusual name/one they liked the sound of, rather than a more traditional one.