Lisswyn woke, disoriented. She was on the ground, on her side, before a fire.

Hunlaf.

No. That wasn't right. Hunlaf was dead. She was safe. With the King.

More memories surfaced, of both her kidnapping and her rescue, and she relaxed further. She was in the King's camp, encircled by both his guard and riders from Ithilien, and the King himself was stretched out behind her, one arm around her waist. Wrapped in his cloak and positioned between him and the fire, she was warm for the first time in hours. His scent, comforting even when mingled with those of battle, surrounded her.

The King.

Eomer.

He'd told her he loved her. Asked her to be his queen. Thrill at the first thought tangled with nerves at the second. It wouldn't be easy. But there were very few easy lives. And his love, the depth of his love, changed everything.

He'd knelt before Hunlaf, begged for her life. Recalling the look in his eyes when he'd done so stirred her heart, and she trembled in response.

He shifted, and she realized he wasn't asleep, as she'd assumed.

"Thedhelm," he said softly. "She's still cold. Would you stir the fire?"

It took her a moment to realize that he had misinterpreted her shiver. Even as Thedhelm moved to put another branch on the fire, she shifted, rolled over to look up at him.

"I'm fine." She smiled as she said it. In the firelight, his eyes were so dark. So worried.

"You're shivering."

"With reaction, not cold."

His arm tightened around her. "You are also quite safe."

He thought she was still afraid. Of Hunlaf's men, or some other threat. She slipped her hand out of the cloak she was wrapped in, cupped his cheek. His primary duty would always be the safety and well-being of the Riddermark, including her. As queen, she would no doubt have many duties as well, but her first and foremost priority would be him. Doing all in her power to care for him. To support him. To love him. "It was a good shiver," she finally said.

At his puzzled look, she slipped her hand around to the back of his head, pulled him down for a kiss. "I was just thinking about how much I love the King of the Mark," she murmured.

Pleasure shot through his eyes, and he smiled in response before leaning down to nuzzle her cheek. "Try to get some more sleep. We'll be leaving for Edoras soon."

She didn't want to sleep. She wanted to continue savoring the wonder of lying next to him, secure in his love – and in the knowledge that he was hers to love in return. But against her will, her eyes drifted shut, her exhausted body demanding rest.

It didn't seem that much later when she awoke again, to sounds of renewed activity in the camp. She immediately realized the King – how long would it take before she thought of him as Eomer? – was no longer behind her, and she mourned the loss. Then she heard his voice, heard him giving instructions to his men. They were preparing to leave.

Rolling over, she sat up, wincing as various injuries ached and throbbed. Ignoring them, she looked around. The fires had been put out, which explained why she was once more chilled. Pulling the cloak closer to her, she managed to stumble to her feet, still feeling decidedly weary and uncoordinated.

"Lisswyn!" The King was suddenly there, steadying her.

"I'm fine," she said stubbornly.

He leaned down, kissed the top of her head. "I can see that," he said in a dry voice. Scooping her up, he turned, settled her on Firefoot, then smoothly mounted behind her, pulled her close.

She relaxed back against him with a sigh. Due to her skirts, she was once again riding sidesaddle, and while it wasn't her favorite riding position, it did allow her to curl against him.

Traveling single file, they were moving out of the clearing, back onto the main trail, and she couldn't quite suppress a shudder at the memory of walking the other direction along it, bound to Hunlaf.

Eomer's arm tightened around her. "I'm sorry I don't have anything else to warm you with."

He'd again misunderstood. "I'm fine," she said. "I was just remembering going the other way along this path." Before he could respond, she changed the subject. "May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Oftentimes, there is a grain of truth behind gossip." She hesitated, wondering if he'd understand what was behind the question she could not quite figure out how to ask.

"You're wondering about the Princess of Dol Amroth."

"Forgive me if it's none of my business."

"I'd say it is very much your business." There was a pause as they navigated a particularly rocky part of the trail. "For my part, there wasn't much to it. I need to marry – the Riddermark needs an heir. Faramir thought that the princess and I might suit and thus she and I met at Aragorn's coronation. Love wasn't a factor in it," he continued softly, "though I hoped if we did wed that we would find love. But then I found you instead—or rather, you found me," there was amusement in his voice as he finished and leaned down to press a kiss against her hair.

She smiled, but the humor quickly faded back into puzzlement. "But…"

"It was never official, but…there were those who were rather enthusiastic about the possibility, and I suspect that may have contributed to the gossip you've heard."

It took a moment, then realization rushed in, and Lisswyn's stomach knotted. "Eowyn." That would explain the way the other woman had greeted her the day she arrived with the other refugees.

"At Edoras, yes. There were apparently others in Gondor. But do not underestimate my sister's friendship toward you at this point. She might have initially wanted me to wed the princess, but she now understands why you're a better choice. I said earlier that she already sees you as a sister, and it's true. "

Lisswyn slowly nodded, remembered Eowyn giving her her training sword, and the two of them standing together on the steps of Meduseld, awaiting battle.

Silence descended again as Lisswyn relaxed against him, content to be held, to ponder what he had said. Gradually, she realized she was cold and looked down, noted that the cloak had fallen open.

As she moved to pull it closed again, Eomer asked, "Why do you hold yourself that way?"

Puzzled, she looked down again, then went still as she saw what he meant. Without being aware of it, her arms were still crossed protectively over her chest.

She didn't know how to answer him, wasn't sure herself what the answer was. That the cuts were sore and felt less so when her arms were positioned in a particular way was only part of it. And he'd never understand, might even feel hurt, if she admitted still feeling vulnerable, despite his protective arms around her.

"It's nothing." She tried to relax, continued pulling the cloak back over her. Maybe he'd think she was just still cold.

"Lisswyn."

Or maybe not, given the warning tone in his voice.

Grateful that there was some distance between Thedhelm in front of them and the rider behind them, she finally forced herself to look up, banished the memory of the shame she'd felt at Hunlaf touching her in front of Eomer and his men. Wishing she could see him more clearly, she spoke quietly. "He cut me." Despite her efforts, her voice trembled, and she paused to steady it. "I'll be fine. I'm just sore."

He stiffened, and she dropped her head to his chest, too weary to know how to respond to his anger. Perhaps she shouldn't have told him, but until she could get somewhere private and check the wounds, she didn't know how serious they were. Or if they'd leave scars. If they did…it probably wasn't a conversation to leave until their wedding night.

Long moments passed, and she understood it was because he was trying to bring himself under control. But when he spoke, his words surprised her. "I'm sorry."

Startled, she looked up. Even in the dim light, she could tell he wasn't looking at her.

"Why? It is not your fault."

"Isn't it? If I had told you earlier how I felt, you would not have left Edoras. Would not have been at Hunlaf's mercy." His tone was bitter.

Astonished, Lisswyn didn't respond. Couldn't. Knowing how responsible he felt for everyone in Edoras, she should have anticipated this.

Finally, loving him beyond reason, she again looked up at him. Reaching up, she cupped his cheek with her hand. "If it must be someone's fault other than Hunlaf, it is mine, for leaving the city. I thought I would be safe so close to Edoras, and was wrong."

He shook his head. "You should have been safe. It is not your fault."

She couldn't help smiling at his stubborn tone. "Then it is not yours, either," she said firmly.

He sighed, dropped his head against hers. "I should have told you. I hate that he hurt you like that, that I couldn't prevent it, couldn't protect you."

Overcome with tenderness, she kissed him. "You prevented a far greater hurt that he had planned." She didn't spell out what she meant, knew she didn't have to. Changing the subject, she asked, "Why did you not tell me?"

He was silent for so long she began to worry that she shouldn't have asked the question. Wondering if she'd been too forward, she started to apologize. "I'm sorry—"

"No." He shook his head. "Do not apologize. It is your right to know this, as well." He paused again, and when he finally spoke, he sounded tired and troubled. "As I said, from my perspective a betrothal between me and the princess was merely a possibility. But I feared that from her father's point of view it was rather more than that."

A great deal suddenly made sense, but before she could comment, he continued. "I did not know if I was completely free to love you, or if duty would require me to wed the princess."

Hearing the frustration in his tone, she shifted, looked up. Wishing she could see him more clearly, she said, "If you had not struggled with that, had not been prepared to do whatever you believed best for the Mark, you would not be the man I love."

He swallowed, dropped his head down again to rest against her. "That you would say that, believe that, is the very reason you are the best thing for the Mark," he murmured. "And for her king." He nuzzled her cheek. "I love you."

The words still sent a thrill through her, and she wondered how long it would take before she got used to them. In some ways, she hoped she never did. She had to clear her throat before responding. "And I, you."

He shifted, pulled her closer to him, wrapped the cloak more tightly around her. Sighing, she rubbed her cheek against the leather of his armor, wished they were already back in Meduseld. Wished they were already husband and wife. And drifted off to sleep on that longing.

Still mounted, Eomer turned Firefoot back toward the entrance to the trail, watched the men come out. The ones on foot immediately headed toward their horses while the ones already mounted moved more slowly due to their injuries. There had been no serious injuries to any of his men, something for which he'd always be grateful to Faramir.

Even with most of the men on foot, they'd made good time coming down the trail – but then, they'd not been tracking anyone, either.

Lisswyn shifted in her sleep, sighed, and he repositioned the cloak, tucked it tight against her, wished again he had something warmer to drape over her. He wanted to get her back to Meduseld, back to the healers.

Looking up, he noted with relief that the men were nearly all mounted, and he turned, nudged Firefoot to begin moving, then could not help but chuckle at the way the horse obeyed. His mount was ready to be back home as well.

Hearing a noise, he looked over, watched as Faramir joined him.

"How is she?"

"She'll be fine." Eomer stopped, unsure of what else to say. The entire night might have gone very differently if not for Faramir and his men. "Thank you," he finally said, knowing the words were inadequate.

In the dim light, he saw Faramir nod, but the other man didn't speak right away, and Eomer had the sense that he was choosing his words with care, as was his wont. Afraid that the Prince was getting ready to express his displeasure at Eomer's relationship with Lisswyn, he wearily braced himself.

"Eomer, what do you know of my childhood?"

The question was so different from what he'd expected that he didn't answer immediately, and when he did, he too chose his words with caution, unsure if some of what Eowyn had shared had been confidential. "Some."

Faramir's voice was quiet, and tinged with sadness. "Then you probably know that my relationship with my father was not an easy one."

Eomer struggled for a response, still uncertain as to the point Faramir was making. He finally settled for simply nodding.

"My brother was much loved by my father, for they had much in common. I was very different from both of them, and thus spent my life in Boromir's shadow."

Eomer didn't reply, couldn't. There was no self-pity in Faramir's tone, just simple acceptance of a truth.

"I love my cousin dearly, Eomer, and would not wish a similar fate for her in her marriage."

Ah. They were discussing Lothiriel, after all. He tried to follow Faramir's line of thought. In the darkness, he saw the outline of the other man's head as he nodded toward Lisswyn.

"Your heart has chosen, and what Eowyn and I might have wished for initially in terms of a union between you and my cousin is now immaterial. Even if there had been a formal betrothal between you and Lothiriel, I would have fought against any attempt on your part to honor it, once your feelings for Lisswyn became clear."

"My heart had not yet been given when I was introduced to your cousin," Eomer felt compelled to point out, wishing he didn't sound quite so defensive.

"I know."

"I did not wish to bring any dishonor to Lothiriel."

"I know that as well, and my response would be different if that weren't so clear to me. And knowing you to be an honorable man, I believe that even if you had been betrothed and felt bound to honor such an agreement, you would have done your best to make her happy. But she would still have spent her life knowing your heart was truly elsewhere, even if you had never again seen Lisswyn."

Never again seen Lisswyn. His stomach rolled at the thought, and he leaned down, pressed his lips against her hair.

"It is not only my cousin I would see happy, Eomer." Faramir's voice was so soft that Eomer looked over in his direction. "You are no less deserving than she is, or I am, to live in love and peace."

It took a moment for the words to sink in, and when they did, relief poured through him. Thank you, Eowyn. She had obviously done as she had promised, and convinced Faramir not to take offense on Lothiriel's behalf. More than that, he realized he'd misjudged the other man's friendship, many times over.

Deeply moved, he again looked in Faramir's direction, wished dawn would hurry, wished they weren't having this conversation in the dark. "Thank you, my brother," he said quietly.

"Lisswyn."

His voice was soft in her ear, but was sufficient to awaken her. Lisswyn opened her eyes, shifted away from where she'd been curled next to his chest, and looked around. Edoras rose up before them, a darker shadow against the background of night. But lights blazed against the dark, and in the east, there was the barest hint of lighter sky signaling that dawn was not far off.

They rode through the opening where the gates should be, then up the road to Meduseld. As they made their way up the path, she saw smiles and looks of relief, and it only gradually dawned on her that they weren't all due to the King's safe return. Some were clearly in response to her presence.

By the time they reached the courtyard in front of the Golden Hall, a crowd was following them. Eomer brought Firefoot to a halt, and she saw more people pouring out of the hall and down the steps as well.

Eomer dismounted, then lifted her to the ground, but left his arm around her to steady her as he handed Firefoot's reins to Breghelm.

"Glad you're safe," the older man said gruffly.

She smiled, but before she could answer, Brynwyn flung herself at her, would have knocked her down if not for the solid shape of the King behind her. Lisswyn gave a shaky laugh, brought her hand up to stroke her sister's hair. "I'm fine, Brynwyn."

The little girl looked up, then past her, to Eomer. "I knew you would be. Eomer-King promised."

Lisswyn slanted him a look, unsure of how to respond, and then suddenly saw the boys standing with Hilde and Eowyn, a few feet away. Her arm still around Brynwyn, she walked over to them. Glancing at all of them in turn, her gaze settled last on Andric. Tears wanted to come, but she blinked them back. "Thank you."

Embarrassed, he looked away. "Breghelm needs me," he muttered, and with that, was gone, followed by Eoden. Lisswyn suppressed a laugh at the typically boyish reaction, then wearily started up the stairs, Brynwyn on one side of her, Hilde on the other. The older woman hadn't said anything, but Lisswyn had seen relief in her eyes.

As she climbed, she was once more aware of dozens of bruises, and despite having slept for most of the way back to the city, could only hope that she'd be able to find a place to take a bath and a nap before starting on the day's tasks.

Idly, she wondered what those tasks would be. There was much to do in rebuilding the city, but there was also a wedding to think about. That thought brought a smile. Eomer hadn't said anything else about it, and she had no way of knowing what might be involved with such an affair, nor, for that matter, when he anticipated it happening.

"You're walking funny."

She looked down to see a worried expression on Brynwyn's face.

"I'm just tired, and a little stiff." Even as she said the words, she became aware that Eomer and Eowyn were climbing with them, and saw him looking at her, a frown on his face. He leaned over and said something to his sister. Lisswyn couldn't catch all of it, but did understand the words, 'healers, immediately.' In response, Eowyn glanced at her and nodded.

Lisswyn looked over at him, shook her head. "I'm fine. All I need is a bath."

His frown deepened. "I want the healers to tend to you," he said flatly.

She brought her hand up, rubbed her eyes. Why couldn't he see that she was simply dirty and tired, and could tend the injuries she did have on her own? "That's unnecessary. I can take care of myself."

"Lisswyn."

"I don't need a healer," she snapped. As soon as the words were out, she regretted them, regretted the tone. Regretted them even more when she glanced around, saw shocked expressions around her as people registered her rudeness to him.

As for the man in question, his face had never worn a less loving expression. His eyes were hard and cold when he gritted out, "The healers will decide that."

Mortified at losing her composure in front of people, and furious with him for not understanding that she didn't want to be poked and prodded right then, she turned from him, started climbing again. "Yes, sire."

The sound of frustration behind her didn't bode well for their next conversation. He would never believe she hadn't called him 'sire' to annoy him, but what was she supposed to call him? If people had been shocked by her rudeness, they would have been even more stunned if she'd called him by his given name.

By the time she reached the top of the stairs and headed into Meduseld, she was fighting tears, appalled by what had just happened. Turning to make her way to the room she'd once shared with Hilde, she tensed when she felt a hand on her arm.

"This way," Eowyn said quietly.

Grimly, Lisswyn turned to follow her. If nothing else, once she'd been fussed over by the healers, perhaps they'd let her get some sleep.

Eowyn started toward her own chambers. "When Eomer sent word ahead that you were on your way home," she said quietly, "I had them draw a bath in my room for you. I thought it would be more likely to grant you privacy than the other rooms."

As they walked into the room, Lisswyn looked around, thought perhaps that privacy was an extremely relative word. There were no less than eight women who'd followed them through the door, and she resisted the desire to laugh somewhat hysterically. She was used to a lack of privacy, as there'd been precious little of it in the caves, but she'd never before been so conscious of being the center of attention when she was preparing to bathe.

Eowyn must have seen it, must have understood, because in moments, the room was empty of all save the two of them, Hilde, and Brynwyn. Relieved, she managed a smile for the King's sister, then started to remove the cloak she still wore draped over her shoulders.

And in the light, saw for the first time the blood and filth on her dress. Was all the blood hers? Had Hunlaf been bleeding when he held her, there at the end? Why would he have been?

Uneasily, she glanced over at Brynwyn, then back up to Hilde. She held the other woman's eyes for a long moment before looking back at her sister. She didn't want the little girl to see her covered with blood, even if it wasn't all hers.

"Brynwyn, would you do me a favor?" At the eager nod, she smiled. "I haven't eaten since yesterday morning. Would you go with Hilde to the kitchen and see what you can find for me? It doesn't matter what it is."

Another nod, and they left, Hilde's worried expression making it clear she suspected the reason for Lisswyn's request.

Lisswyn turned back to the tub, and began to remove her clothes without looking at Eowyn. She couldn't very well demand the other woman leave her own room, and in any case, she suspected that Eowyn's presence was a compromise of sorts, allowing her at least a chance to bathe before being examined by the healers.

She slipped out of the dress, left it where it fell. Her shift was harder to remove, as some of the blood had dried it onto her skin, and she winced as she pulled it off. It was with a sigh of relief she finally stepped into the hot water, eased down.

Eowyn silently handed her soap and a soft cloth, and Lisswyn began to wash, wincing as the soap stung in the cuts. There were a total of six, one in each arm and four on various places on her breasts and upper chest area. Only two were deep enough to be concerned about, in her opinion, though they'd probably all leave scars. The last two were the worst, particularly the one Hunlaf had given her to convince Eomer to order his men to lay down their weapons. Odd, since at the time she'd barely noticed it.

"Does Eomer know?" Eowyn asked the question as she moved over to the wardrobe, began looking through it.

"Know what?"

"About the wounds."

Lisswyn looked up to find the other woman now watching her. She nodded, resumed cleaning the dried blood around the cuts.

"And yet you wonder why he was so insistent about the healers?"

Rather than censure, there was honest puzzlement in Eowyn's voice. Lisswyn slowly stopped cleaning, closed her eyes for a moment before looking back over at her. "No. Not really. But was it so wrong of me to want just a few minutes to myself first? To see the damage for myself before others started examining me?"

"No, I suppose not." Eowyn said slowly as she moved back toward her, a robe over her arm. "The wounds are nothing to be ashamed of, you know." She leaned against the desk, met Lisswyn's eyes. "Battle scars."

"Hardly." Lisswyn grimaced. "There was nothing I could do, no way I could fight back."

"There are many ways of resisting, some more subtle than others. The men Eomer sent back to let us know you were safe are telling everyone of the courage you displayed. And apparently, you managed to warn Eomer when Hunlaf was about to attack – something not insignificant, given his lack of a weapon at that point."

Embarrassed, Lisswyn tried to think of a response, was spared by a knock at the door.

"I suspect your time to examine the injuries yourself is up," Eowyn remarked, and went to answer it.

Mylla stepped into the room, and knowing Eowyn was correct, Lisswyn turned back to finish her bath, grateful that it was at least one of the other women healers who'd been sent to check on her.

A/N: Thank you very much for all the wonderful comments about the last part! It means a great deal to me that so many of you liked it, and took the time to say so.

Several of you asked about a possible sequel. Nothing is written at this point, and I'm starting work on an original novel (gulp!) but I have an idea or two for a sequel, and am beginning to think I'm going to find it very difficult to walk completely away from these characters. Stay tuned. ;)