Lisswyn wandered rather aimlessly for a while after parting from Andric before she found a patch of the plant near some boulders. Or at least she thought it was the same plant. She'd only seen it in its dried form, and this was larger than she'd anticipated. Nevertheless, she reached out, began to carefully pull the plant out of the ground.

Seeing Andric had upset her. How could she leave him and Eoden? Would that not be a betrayal of her promise to Maegwen to look after them? But how could she ask them to leave Edoras? How could she look after them if they went?

But how could she bear to remain in the city, once the king was married to someone else – no matter who that was?

Tears slipped down her cheeks, fell on the plants. She couldn't. As much as it would hurt to leave the boys, doing so was the best option for everyone. And Maegwen would have understood that she wasn't abandoning her promise to take care of them. By staying in Edoras, they would be cared for far better than if they went wherever she wound up going.

It would be good for no one if she tried to stay in Edoras once the king was married – not the boys, not herself, not the king or his bride.

For a moment, pity for the other woman – whoever she turned out to be – forced its way through her grief. Marrying a man who loved someone else was nothing to be envied.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

Startled, she fell back, looked up. Men in dark clothing, the exact number hard to determine, surrounded her. While she'd been lost in unhappy thoughts, the afternoon had flown and the sun was already dropping behind the mountains.

She stared at them, uneasy with the expressions they wore. Then the man who'd spoken to her stepped out of the shadows, closer to her, and the expression on his face turned her unease into fear.

Hunlaf.

"What's the king's bedwarmer doing so far from Edoras?"

It took a moment for the insult to register, but before she could protest, he stalked across to her, and hauled her up by the hair. Lisswyn couldn't help a cry of pain as she staggered to her feet, trying to relieve the pressure on the side of her head. Attempting to free herself, she batted at his arm, which only seemed to amuse him. He grabbed her wrist, twisted it.

"Where's the king? Is this a tryst for the two of you?"

"What? No!"

"Where is he?" He shook her, and tears of pain came to her eyes. She blinked them away, furious with herself for allowing him to see the response.

"Edoras. At least he was there when I left." She forced firmness into her tone, would not to let him see how frightened she was.

He shook her again, then let her go so suddenly she fell. "If I find out you're lying to me, you'll regret it."

"I don't know exactly where he is. I'm not familiar with everything he does. You're wrong about our relationship."

He grabbed her again, hauled her up, making her suspect he'd dropped her just so he could grab her again. She bit her lip against the pain.

"Am I? Then that's not good for you, either. If you're not the king's little bedmate, then he might not care all that much about what happens to you. You cost me my position in the kitchens and made things much more complicated for me, so you owe me." His grin was evil. "And I'm going to enjoy taking what I'm due." He turned, looked at the rest of the men. "In fact, I think we all will."

The men laughed in response, and as the meaning of his words registered, fear turned into panic, and she kicked out at him.

He dodged the kick and laughed at her, then backhanded her so hard she landed across the clearing, her head striking one of the boulders.

Her last thought was one of despair. No one knew exactly where she was, and only Andric even realized she'd been out of the city that day.

"Your people are resilient, Eomer." Imrahil followed him into his study, then watched as Eomer closed the door behind him. "Given what they endured just a few nights ago, and the losses they suffered, they're surprisingly enthusiastic about the future."

"Thank you." He stared at the door they'd just walked through, as if he could still see the people of Edoras on the other side. "We are a hardy folk."

"They have a good king."

He turned, looked at the older man, knew his embarrassment was apparent. "Thank you for that, as well. It is twice the compliment coming from a man such as yourself."

He meant the comment sincerely. Dol Amroth was well ruled, and had been, both before and during the war.

The Prince was now looking at him, a gleam in his wise eyes. A gleam that made Eomer nervous. They had spent the day touring Edoras, overseeing the work that was being done, visiting with those who'd lost homes and husbands, and Imrahil had made more than one favorable comment concerning what he seeing. Eomer was torn between simply being pleased, and fear that the other man was commenting on where he thought his daughter was going to live.

He had finally decided he could wait no longer to discuss Lothiriel and had suggested retiring to his study before the evening meal for just that purpose.

He'd only had one brief conversation with Faramir, as the Prince of Ithilien was still assisting Eowyn with her work among the people of Edoras. He had been unable to tell whether Eowyn had mentioned Lisswyn to him. Faramir was skilled at keeping his thoughts to himself, and could be difficult to read. He would have to talk to Eowyn, discover what she'd said, if anything, before approaching Faramir. That conversation could come later, after the conversation with Lothiriel's father.

Motioning Imrahil to sit in one of the chairs next to the fire, Eomer joined him, then stared off into the flames for a long moment. How to start? With Theoden gone and his own father long dead, it was easy to look up to the man sitting across from him, and he was loathe to broach the topic in such a way as to make Imrahil think poorly of him.

"Imrahil, there's a matter I'd like to discuss with you," he finally said slowly. "I'm not sure how to approach it," he admitted.

"Straight-forward is usually best."

The other man's voice was quiet, and Eomer nodded. After a long moment, he slowly said, "Shortly before Elessar's coronation, we discussed the possibility of a marriage between me and your daughter." He hesitated, then blurted out, "My situation has changed since then."

The Prince's expression cooled. "I see. You no longer believe my daughter would make a good queen?"

Shocked, Eomer looked at him. "No! Yes! No! No. Of course not. Of course I don't think that." A little desperately, he added, "Your daughter is a lovely and gracious woman who would make an exceptional queen. You know that." He stared at Imrahil in frustration for a moment, then choosing his next words carefully, he continued, "And honored would be the man who could call her his wife."

"But you do not wish to be that man." The coolness was still there.

A knock at the door sounded before he could formulate the next words, and he bit back an oath in response. "Come," he snapped, frustration at the delay evident in his voice.

The frustration abated when he saw Breghelm. There were a few people in Edoras that he knew for absolute certain wouldn't interrupt him without good cause, and the stablemaster was one of them.

And then he saw Andric, standing next to Breghelm, his face white and streaked with tears. All he could think of was that something had happened to Eoden. Before he could question them, though, the boy ran to him.

"They took her. They're hurting her. I didn't know how to stop them. I was afraid." He grabbed Eomer's hand, jerked. "They're hurting her. You have to do something."

Whom was he referring to? The words had come out fast and in a jumble, and Eomer glanced helplessly at Breghelm, noted for the first time the worry in the other man's eyes, and felt his own stomach knot. He looked back down at Andric, still clinging to him. "Who? Who's being hurt?"

"Lisswyn! They're hurting her. He knocked her down. He didn't know I was there. I didn't help her."

Lisswyn, in danger? How? Where? The knot slid greasily in his stomach. Andric was still babbling, repeating the same things over and over. Eomer grabbed his shoulders, shook him once, hard. "Andric! I need you to calm down." Giving the boy's shoulders a squeeze, he continued, "You're helping her now. But I have to know who's hurting her, and where they are. In Edoras?"

Andric swallowed hard, and shook his head. "I found her this afternoon. She was walking toward the hills. I was exercising one of the mares. She told me she was going to gather some plants, and that I should come home, but I didn't. She was crying, and I didn't like it."

Crying? Why was she crying? And out walking such a distance from Edoras?

Andric continued. "So I followed her – there's a trail that sort of goes up above where she was walking. I hid in some trees, up above this sort of rocky area where she found the plants. She just sat there for a long time, weeping. I didn't know what to do. Then I saw some riders come. They're all in black, and they found her, and were mean to her."

Riders in black? Eomer turned a baffled look to Breghelm. Could the boy have misunderstood what was happening?

He nearly missed Andric's next sentence.

"The cook. The one who used to be here. He was with them. He pulled her up by the hair and it hurt her. Then he got mad and hit her and she fell, and didn't wake up."

Eomer stared at him for a long moment, wanting to do deny what he was saying. Hunlaf. Remembering what Eowyn had told him, he recoiled in horror at the thought of Lisswyn being at the man's mercy.

…hit her and she fell, and didn't wake up. Andric's last words echoed in his mind, and fear and fury moved through him. She might already be dead. Gripping the boy's shoulders again, he demanded, "What happened then?"

"They put her on a horse, and took her away. I was going to follow, but didn't know how to help her, so I came back here. I didn't know how to help her."

Eomer looked up at Breghelm. "Get Elfhelm and Thedhelm for me." The stablemaster nodded and left, and Eomer looked back at Andric. "Listen to me. You did the only thing you could do by coming back. Did you ride fast?" At the boy's nod, he continued, "then you've helped her as much as you could. If you had stayed, they might have found you and no one would have known where either of you were. Can you tell me exactly where you were when you saw them last?"

Andric nodded. "Where the hills start – there's a path up, into some trees, where I was, and some caves further up. I think that's where the men came from. There's another path down from the caves, and at the bottom is an open area. Some small bushes and trees grow there, but there are a lot of rocks. That's where Lisswyn was. The men didn't see me because they came down the other path. Do you know where I mean?" He ended on an anxious note.

Eomer grimaced, and nodded. He knew exactly the area Andric was describing. Why had Lisswyn gone out there alone?

"You've done a good job of describing it," he reassured the boy. "Do you know how many men there were?"

Andric shook his head. "It was growing dark, and hard to see. But about fifteen, maybe."

"You'll want Faramir with you." Imrahil's voice was quiet, and startled him. He'd nearly forgotten the other man was present. Eomer looked over at him, saw understanding in his gaze. "He is a ranger. His tracking skills are second only to Elessar's." Compassion was in his eyes, but his voice was firm. "I and my men will stay here, provide security for your city."

Edoras. Eomer rubbed his eyes wearily, appalled that he hadn't even considered the possibility that this was another trap to get him out of the city, leave it vulnerable to a new attack. He looked back at Imrahil, grateful for the Prince's calm and authoritative manner.

Imrahil continued, "Edoras will be safe. And Faramir will help you track the men who have your lady."

Startled, Eomer stared at him. The Prince shook his head. "Even a good king would not have turned the shade of white you did upon hearing that one of the women of the city had been taken. We will continue our discussion when you've returned to the city with her."

Helplessly, Eomer nodded, not knowing what else to say. Relief that perhaps Imrahil was going to forgive him for the unintended insult to Lothiriel warred with a desperate fear that it wouldn't matter, that Lisswyn was already dead. Or would be by the time he got to her.

He looked over, saw Elfhelm and Breghelm entering the room, and behind them, Eowyn and Faramir. The looks on their faces told him that they already knew what had happened.

"Thedhelm is mustering your guard," Elfhelm said. "Do you want me to go or stay here?"

His arm was still in a sling. Eomer had no doubt the older man could ride with only one hand, but fighting while on horseback might be a different matter. "Stay. Prince Imrahil and his men will be here to supplement your men in guarding the city, but it will be better for the people of Edoras if you and Eowyn are here as well."

He looked over at his sister, saw her lips pressed together. It was obvious she wanted to go, but she gave him an abrupt nod that she understood what he was asking of her, and why.

"The moon is nearly full." Faramir's voice was quiet. "That will aid in tracking them."

Their eyes met, and in the other man's eyes he saw grim determination, and some other emotion he couldn't quite identify. Imrahil was right about Faramir's tracking skills, and although Eomer was as familiar with the hills around Edoras as it was possible to be, the Prince of Ithilien's ranger skills might well make the difference.

"We will find them," Faramir said flatly.

Eomer nodded. Oh, yes. He had no intention of allowing Hunlaf to continue to threaten the people of Edoras. They would find him, no matter what. The question was whether it would be in time to save Lisswyn. "The sooner we can leave, the better," he said.

Eomer chafed with impatience as he prepared to mount Firefoot, as he watched the rest of his men mount. It took time to get men and horses ready for battle, and the delay frustrated him even though he understood its necessity.

Turning, he caught sight of Hilde, the two boys, and Brynwyn standing off to the side, watching. Lisswyn's family. The woman's eyes were dark with grief, the boys' expressions grim and sad, and the little girl's face was transparent with fear.

Every moment counted. He knew that, and yet he walked over to them, knelt in front of Brynwyn, allowed his gaze to touch all of them before settling on her. "I will bring her home." It was as much a promise to himself and to Lisswyn as to those standing in front of him. "Do you trust me?"

She stared at him for a long moment, her lip trembling though she did not cry. Then she slowly nodded her head. He reached out, squeezed her shoulder, then turned and sprang up onto Firefoot.

"Ride out!" he shouted.

As the riders began moving down the road through Edoras, he realized that many of the inhabitants of the city had turned out to watch them. That in itself wasn't unusual, but some of the women had tears in their eyes.

And then Ceolwyn shouted, "Ride fast, my lord! Bring her home safely!" and he understood that both the tears and the fear were for Lisswyn. She had more people who cared about her than she probably realized.

Aye. He would ride fast, would bring her home. And would make her his queen.

A/N: The next chapter, as promised. Some of you had guessed what was going to happen, but hopefully there were a few unforeseen bits. ;)