Chapter 5

The next morning was bright and beautiful. Even Imrahil stayed late for breakfast, and when the table was finally cleared, he suggested the company make a trip to his vineyard inland. He had some business there, but the place and the road there were pleasant and fair. Not all of his sons seemed enthused by the idea, but Lady Lothíriel looked up with a smile and stated she was happy to join the company.

Éomer tried not to seem too pleased. Perhaps he would have his chance to talk to her alone in the vineyard... or on the road there. He would surely be on guard for such an opportunity.

After the breakfast the company dispersed to prepare for the trip, and less than half an hour later they met again outside. Horses were made ready, perhaps not quite with the speed and skill of the royal stable-hands of Meduseld, but Éomer kept these notions to himself. The happy bustle in the courtyard was very much the same, even if it was amusingly odd to see the King's Guard and Swan Knights mingling in a blur of green and blue. Éomer's Rider's towered above others on their great warhorses.

But then a white mare was brought forth, a beautiful animal with large, gentle eyes. She was wearing a lady's saddle and her bridle was blue and silver. Rohirric warhorses, Firefoot included, all snorted and stirred. Their masters were quick to check them again, but Éomer's eyes followed the lady who took charge of the mare. Imrahil's daughter was dressed in a blue riding gown and her hair was in a thick, neat braid. A light silver-grey scarf was loosely resting on her head and one shoulder.

The white mare moved restlessly, but her mistress was quick to settle her down with a soft hand and some words that, as far as Éomer could catch them, were in Sindarin. He had heard tales of how that Elder Tongue impacted animals and was not surprised to see the mare quiet down.

He raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Perhaps the lady was more of a horsewoman than she had led him to believe.

Soon enough the whole company was gathered and they rode out. Éomer stayed close to Imrahil and his family, and around them Royal Guard and Swan Knights kept watch. The standards of Rohan and Dol Amroth, the White Horse and the Swan Ship, were carried side by side. Even so, the whole company seemed to have this feeling of holiday about them. Many voices were speaking cheerfully and among Rohirrim, there were a few who were even inspired to sing. They sang in the language of the North, which soon caught the attention of Lady Lothíriel.

"Your people's tongue is beautiful, Sire, though I do not understand it. What are your Riders singing?" she asked him as they rode slowly through the streets of Dol Amroth. She was close enough to talk to him, but there were many people around them, and so a private conversation was unthinkable.

"It's a common travelling song of my country. It speaks of how good it's to make way under the sun upon the green, and yet how sweet it's to get to one's hearth again. Rohirrim are always singing, my lady; it's our second speech, as some have said", Éomer explained. A quick glance around had him realising she was not the only one listening to his words, but he directed his eyes at her.

"That is a kind of wisdom indeed. I have read tales that our distant ancestors who woke at Hildórien at the first sunrise leanrt to speak through songs", she said. It was odd, the nonchalant way she spoke of this matter of ancient lore which was little known to Men of this Twilight Age. Surely for the Rohirrim, even the tales of the North before Eorl the Young brought their people to Rohan were a matter of dim and remote past.

Éomer would much have liked to ask more on this matter, but unfortunately, Erchirion rode next to his sister and asked her about some salve she was supposed to be preparing for him. So her attention was directed elsewhere, and Éomer's chance to interrogate her on the matters of obscure lore was denied. But he still wondered. Her knowledge of the world unusual among most Mortal Men. Perhaps not among the daughters and sons of Westernesse, though, as Éomer told himself.

Outside the city country was as green and fair as he had seen before. It had still been spring in the Riddermark when he had left; here, it felt like summer. They took a fair road under great, ancient oaks. Here and there, golden sunlight peeked through their massive branches and into the cool, green shade. He had rarely seen trees of such size and girth. Clearly, the Princes of Dol Amroth had taken care of securing these trees. Idly he wondered what Treebeard would have to say about it.

Nearby, the lady with the white mare was riding. Éomer had a fair number of things he wanted to say to her, but it appeared he was not going to get his chance again. For it seemed that either she was watching the green lands around them, or Erchirion or Amrothos was riding in between her and the young king.

Still, some of his impatience and anxiety must have shown on his face, and Amrothos of all people was the one to notice it – even if he completely misunderstood where it came from.

"Don't expect to be entertained while we ride. Lothíriel is a nightmare to travel with in the countryside. She will stop her escort at any plant or bush that interests her, and if it's something new, she will sit down with her little notebook and spend half the afternoon studying every blasted leaf", he commented cheerfully and cast a charming grin at his sister.

She scoffed at him, though her eyes glittered in amusement.

"It's not my fault you lack patience and discipline", she jabbed calmly. "It's not like I make anybody come with me, so if you don't want to sit around while I do my work, that's your concern."

"The way she speaks, you might think she doesn't know she's Prince Imrahil's only daughter", Amrothos said to Éomer with a shake of his head.

"What do I have to fear in my own land?" asked Lady Lothíriel unaffectedly, but Amrothos just groaned. It sounded like this conversation had occurred many times, to the point of exhaustion. Éomer decided not to say anything, even if he did side with Amrothos. He couldn't imagine letting his own kin travel the countryside without any protection and it surprised him that the lady didn't seem to think it an issue. What did she know that the others didn't?

Soon enough they road began to climb and the woods were left behind. Then they saw their destination: a beautiful villa built on a green hill, and great fields spreading around it to every direction. At a glance, Éomer could not say how large the vineyard was. In any case, it was a lush, green place. The air was fragrant and mild and in the vineyard, many workers were tending to the precious plants.

The villa's paved courtyard had just enough space for the company, but only a couple stable-hands, so the steeds were cared for under the supervision of Éomer's Riders and a few Swan Knights. Meanwhile, the master of the vineyard, a sturdy silver-haired man with bright brown eyes, took Prince Imrahil's company and the King of Rohan on a tour of the vineyard. It was well-tended and vines were in good order, as could be expected of anything that Imrahil's hand touched.

The members of that company seemed to possess different levels of interest in the tour. Imrahil and Elphir followed the master of the vineyard as intensely as if this was their first time visiting the place. Erchirion was engaged in a hushed conversation with Éothain, and Amrothos looked like he would rather be enjoying the end products than seeing the vines that produced the grapes for wine. But Lady Lothíriel seemed to both follow the tour, and at the same time, she often halted to examine one of the vines. If she lingered too long at any specimen, Amrothos would push her along. Éomer was as much entertained by this little routine as he was by listening to the master of the vineyard explain the intricacies of wine-making. The first of these vines had come from Westernesse before the fall, good and wholesome as most growing things brought out from the isle which had lain closest of all mortal lands to the Blessed Realm. The vineyard had survived even the leaner years and times of war, when it had been more important to grow grain and vegetable. Once, the entire vineyard had almost burned down in a pirate raid, but the oldest part of it had been saved thanks to the efforts of the gardeners and a well-timed rainstorm. For some who had worked their whole lives at this plantation these vines were like children.

One could have spent an entire afternoon exploring the vineyeard, but Imrahil had some business with the master of the plantation. So the company turned their faces at the villa once more. Amrothos was quick to suggest a trip to the wine-cellar in the meanwhile. His sister rolled her eyes.

"Don't let him get you drunk, Sire. I'm going to visit the villa and have some light lunch prepared for us in the garden. It should be ready in half an hour", she said to Éomer with a slight smile.

He bowed his head to her.

"Thank you, my lady. We shall be there, even if we have to carry Amrothos out", he promised, making her laugh softly.

"Excellent. I knew you could be counted on, Sire", she said, touched his sleeve briefly, and made her way towards the villa.

He could not help it. He watched her go and felt something akin to anxiety shifting in his chest. Words left unsaid burned his tongue, even if he wasn't sure what those words were.

"Oi, Éomer! Did you fall asleep on your feet? Let's get going!" Amrothos demanded impatiently. Grumbling something affirmative, Éomer followed his friend to the wine-cellars. Éothain and several Riders came with them, but Elphir had joined his father, and Erchirion had vanished.

In songs and tales, the typical master of wine-cellars always enjoyed his profession a little too much, but the man in charge of this one was anything but. His face fell when he saw Amrothos, and Éomer was fairly sure he would have denied them access to the many treasures of the cellar, if not for the royal guest. Amrothos wasted no time in insisting how horribly rude it would be not to give a sample of precious vintages to the King of Rohan, and reluctantly the oppressed keeper of the cellar brought them a few bottles and goblets of shining brass.

There was rich red wine and crisp white, and when he got to explaining how these drinks were made, the keeper seemed to relent a bit. It was delicious, of course, if different from the ale Éomer preferred. He listened politely to the keeper's tales, sipping his drink much more slowly than Amrothos. Éothain and the Riders were even more wary. While the captain knew his king would not mind him enjoying himself a bit, Éomer suspected the captain would rather die than be caught drunk while on duty. The guards with them followed his lead.

Half an hour passed quickly. They did not quite carry Amrothos out, but it took a bit of manhandling and a few firm commands.

"Not to mention, I would not insult your sister by being late", Éomer pointed out as they climbed up the stairs of the cellar and into the light of the courtyard.

"Hmph. You pay too much attention to her wishes and far to little to mine", Amrothos complained, though he allowed himself to be steered towards the garden.

"That choice is easily made", Éomer said and smiled faintly.

A table for the company was almost ready in the garden that overlooked the vineyard and the lady was supervising the servants as they carried out plates and dishes. Imrahil and his two elder sons were there as well, conversing quietly with the master of the vineyard. But Lady Lothíriel saw the King and his two companions arriving and she cast them a bright smile. Instantly Éomer returned it.

"Come! The table is set", she summoned the company to enjoy the lunch and with a cheerful bustle, they took their seats.

As seemed to be the rule in these parts, the food was plentiful and delicious. There were cold cuts of chicken presented on a bed of fresh salad and tomatoes, crisp white bread still warm from the oven, a golden-brown hunter's pie that smelt heavenly when cut open, and plenty of white wine. The lady herself poured them drinks before taking seat next to Éomer. When she passed him the earthenware goblet, her fingers brushed his own. That smallest of touches sent a strange tremor across his hand and arm, as though she had tugged at some tendon he hadn't known of until now, and by it something stirred deep in his chest.

He met those sea-grey eyes, but she looked away before he could search them and discover if she had felt that tremor, too. He glanced around the faces of his friends but it did not seem like they had noticed anything odd. Imrahil and his sons were already speaking in their usual quick, cheerful manner.

Éomer sat in silence for a while, trying to make sense of the noise in his head, but coming out none the wiser. He wanted to shake himself. He was acting like an ill-mannered fool, and in any case, hadn't he wished to talk to her? While this was not the time or place for the questions that continued to trouble him, there was still plenty he could say to her.

"My lady", he began tentatively, "It is a beautiful place, this vineyard. Do you come here often?"

"Not very often. As much as I appreciate the art of wine-making, it's not within the scope of my own interests. There are some interesting plants here, of course, but the countryside is filled with many fascinating things", she replied.

"You walk so boldly in your land", he noted carefully. He didn't want to argue with her, or challenge her in the way Amrothos did; he was simply curious.

The lady shrugged.

"Perhaps I do. But I am light of foot and know how to hide myself if there is a need for it", she said with an air of indifference, though he sensed a degree of reluctance in it. He decided not to pursue the matter any further for the time being. It would only serve in driving up her walls, and that was the last thing he wanted.

"Have you always had this passion for the things that grow?" he asked her instead.

She cast him a quick smile.

"Most of my life, yes. There is such beauty and wonder in it, this richness we have been blessed with by the Powers that shaped the world. I wish to study it and know it as intimately as I can. And I am lucky. Had I been born a farmer's daughter, I would never have a chance to spend so much time in my studies. Of course, daughters and wives in small villages of Gondor know much of this lore, and they employ it in a very practical manner in their everyday lives", she answered warmly, as one would of a matter close to their heart.

Éomer could not help but smile.

"This may sound odd, my lady, but I think you would love to meet the Halflings of the Shire. Their love of things that grow rivals your own", he said lightly, and she let out a soft laugh.

"Yes, I have heard much of them and their blessed land. My brother Amrothos befriended them after the war, as he will tell anyone who'll listen. I do not know them myself, but I saw the Master Meriadoc in the Houses of Healing", she explained and lifted her goblet to her lips.

For a while they were engaged in such a talk, and he told her how until recently Halflings had only been a matter of children's tales in Rohan. Even more curiously, he had discovered his tongue and the language of the hobbits shared a kinship of old – there were many words that they both knew. Lady Lothíriel listened to him speak, making a question here and there, and ever so often her eyes strayed to him. But she was quick to look away again.

"I have always wanted to travel North and see the lands beyond the White Mountains. Not because I do not love these shores and woods. But the world is wide and has many wondrous things in it, and it's sad always be left behind – always to just picture those wonders in the eye of one's mind", she said with sudden longing in her voice.

"Then you must visit Rohan some time, my lady. You and your family are always welcome in my home. I imagine there you would find many a herb and leaf you had not seen before, and many who would be eager to learn from you", he offered and tried to ignore the small thrill that went through him at the thought.

In her eyes was a faraway look. She did not answer his offer with any pleasantries; instead, she spoke so quietly that he had to strain to hear her: "If I visited Edoras, I might not leave it."

He blinked and looked at her in wonder. What could she possibly mean by such a statement? Éomer fully meant to ask, but she shook her head and looked at him with clear eyes again, as though nothing had happened.

"My lord, why don't you tell me more about your homeland? It is one thing to hear tales from second-hand sources, but a man will speak more truly of his home than his friends in foreign lands ever may", she said, and despite his brief confusion, Éomer was glad to answer her.

She listened to him eagerly, making questions here and there, and her eyes began to shine as he spoke of the green, rolling hills of his homeland and what it felt like to ride over the plains with wind in his hair. He told her about the great horses, loved by their riders like kin, and the free, fierce people who well matched the proud steeds. He described their songs, some full of grief and others so glad that you would think no darkness had ever touched the green earth, the tales and legends of the North he had listened to as a child, and how much he loved his land and his people. When he spoke, a warmth grew in his breast and he realised how true it was. For so many months, all he had been able to see was the constant toil of his new position, and people seeing him only through what they thought he could give to them, be it livelihood or his hand in marriage. But when he told Lady Lothíriel of the Riddermark, he understood how deep his love of it ran – how much he was willing and able to do to protect it.

This conversation continued after the lunch was finished and the company began their journey back to the city. Now the lady rode next to him and she did not allow any of her brothers to get in between or distract her. There seemed to be no end to her interest in the Mark, and over the journey back to Dol Amroth, Éomer found himself giving her an abridged version of the history of Rohan. And whenever he glanced her way, he would see her smiling face.

Éomer barely noticed the landscape passing by as they rode back. All too soon they reached the gates of the city. The streets were in a bustle of afternoon, and so it was quite impossible to continue their conversation. People made way almost instinctively, which was wise in a street full of big warhorses, some of which had tempers fit for trolls. But his own instinct was to keep an eye around, especially close to the lady on the white mare. Not that he expected an ambush in the middle of Amrothian street, but it was a second nature for him to be on guard where multitudes gathered. It was the knife you did not see coming that ought to make you wary.

Even with his passing paranoia, they reached the castle without an issue, and the great courtyard filled with noise and movement. It was a whirlwind of horses and men and looking around, Éomer could see Lady Lothíriel was almost at the other side of it. He caught her eyes briefly and they shared a quick smile before a stable-hand came to get her horse.

In this bustle, it was no wonder that Imrahil and Elphir did not notice him. Éomer did not mean to eavesdrop, but he could hardly avoid it without making the moment quite awkward for all of them. The two men spoke in Sindarin, and perhaps a word or two were lost on the young king, but he was able to follow the general gist of the hushed talk just on the other side of Éomer's tall warhorse.

"... he seems very taken with her. He could hardly take his eyes off of her", Elphir was saying to his father in a slight tone of concern.

"I saw. But I would not worry about it, son. Our friend is an honourable man and he would never treat her without the appropriate respect", Imrahil replied calmly.

"What if he proposes?"

"He is not a man of Gondor, Elphir. He will seek her first before talking to me. And she will refuse him with all the grace you know her to possess. I admit it is a relief; when it comes from her own mouth, he won't feel like I think him unworthy of her. Nothing could be further from the truth... but you know why she must say no", Imrahil said gravely to his heir.

Éomer had listened to this conversation in silence. His mind was blank at first, numb even, but then he heard Éothain calling his name and he stirred once more. He grunted something unintelligible as an answer and began to walk swiftly towards the palace. He was only vaguely aware of his captain hurrying suit.

Absurd. Yes, that was precisely what it was. Absurd. Not once had he thought of proposing to the lady; she was simply pleasant company, she was his friend, and that was all. Yet he could forgive his friends for having such ideas: fathers and brothers were notoriously paranoid with their unmarried kinswomen in this part of the world.

As for the lady, she was indeed as kind and wise as she was lovely. But she was his friend and he appreciated too much the way she had approached him as a man and not a king looking for a bride. He felt no more fondly for her than he did for Amrothos or Erchirion or Elphir.

And that was the full and final truth of the matter, Éomer told himself as he strode swiftly through the white halls of Imrahil's home.

Wasn't it?


At breakfast next morning, Amrothos made his suggestion: they should go hunting today. It was a beautiful morning and Éomer had yet to take a closer look at the woods beyond the city, so he readily agreed to the plan. Granted, it would take him away from the castle – and a chance of tracking down a certain lady inside its walls – but he was confident he would get to her alone sooner or later. He might as well as take this day to figure out his strategy. Clearly, if anything could be judged by the conversation he had overhead by accident, tact and care would be important.

She was not present at the breakfast, but he already suspected this was not uncommon. She appeared to have a particular routine of her own, which often took her outside to the beach and woods in the early hours of morning. Elphir's words about her living by her own schedule returned to Éomer's mind. He did not ask after her, though she surely was on his mind; he didn't want to confirm any suspicions Imrahil obviously had.

His captain and Riders were pleasantly surprised to hear the news. They enjoyed the sport as much as anybody, but there had been no opportunities for hunting for pleasure last autumn and winter. Éomer himself had not had time for it and all the game that had been caught had gone to the hungry and needy of the realm, of whom there had been many.

The morning went by quickly as a hunting party was prepared, and midday was nearing when they at last reached the woods outside the city. While the setting was different, the atmosphere was familiar. Dogs baying, kennel masters herding the prized hounds, the master of game giving orders to the footmen... even the wood felt tense and expectant.

Amrothos was bursting with energy and he seemed to be everywhere at once, making sure that all was ready for the hunt. Perhaps a bit unusually, the Eorlingas of the party were to be going on foot. None of them wanted to risk injury to their warhorses in unfamiliar terrain. This was also a chance to take a look at the woods, which were different than the forests of the North.

Éomer was testing the longbow he had borrowed from the armoury of the castle. He was not completely unfamiliar with this weapon, although Riders of the Mark normally used a short bow, meant for smaller range and high speed. While he was not a masterful bowman, this unusual setup was actually entertaining in itself.

Next to him Éothain was balancing his spear – also a loan from the armoury, as he would not risk his own precious weapon for fun and sport. He looked cheerful as he tested the swing of his arm with the spear.

"Are we having fun yet?" Éomer asked with half-smile.

"Indeed we are. I'm starting to think you were struck by a rare case of genius when you decided to come here", Éothain commented lightly.

"I have my moments, though they may be few and far in between", Éomer said wryly, making his friend laugh.

"Truer words were never spoken", said the captain and grinned at him.

But abruptly his expression sobered and he reached his hand to touch his king's shoulder.

"It's good to see you like this, too. Makes me feel like old times", he said quietly. They were speaking Rohirric, but many of the King's Riders were bustling close by.

"Aye. I think we've all needed this", Éomer agreed with an emphatic nod. A quiet sense of agreement and companionship was there between them, perhaps more tangible than it had been in a while.

And so because of this feeling, and because of the burning coal of curiosity and eagerness, Éomer could not help blurting out something he had kept to himself until now. So what if Éothain got ideas in his head? Let his actions speak for him rather than words.

"To tell you the truth, it's not just this place", he admitted in an even lower voice. "I've found her again, Éothain. She's here – she was here all along."

His friend looked at him first in confusion, but then realisation dawned on his features as he put together two and two. He was recalling their conversation not long before their journey south – and probably also the one he had had with Éowyn.

"Your healer is here in Dol Amroth?" he asked in surprise and glanced around, as though expecting her to jump out at this reveal.

"Actually, she's not a healer. She was just helping out at the Houses when I met her. That's why I couldn't find her after we came back from Cormallen – she had already returned home", Éomer explained, speaking quickly in a strange, heated rush.

Éothain's eyes grew even wider in curiosity, but the young king continued to speak, "It's Imrahil's daughter, Éothain. I never imagined such a thing! There I was, convinced I would never see her again and who is the first person I meet when I go out riding by myself? I saw her at the cliffs, Éothain, and it was like she had been there waiting for me all this time."

He was aware he had started to rant. It sounded a little bit mad, and Éothain was certainly going to get ideas, but he was simply too happy for finally getting to tell this to another soul.

"Imrahil's daughter, you say?" Éothain asked at last when Éomer finally stopped to catch his breath. Judging by his expression, the captain had indeed much to say about this reveal, but it was in that moment the horn was blown and the hunting party began their trek into the woods. The baying of the dogs was deafening as they were released, speeding into the green shade of the trees. Footmen went jogging ahead as well. There was excited talk in the air as the hunting party made their way forward.

"So, what are you going to do with that information?" Éothain asked after a moment, when he had caught up with Éomer again and the noise had died down a little bit.

"What should I do with it?" asked the young king a bit more warily than before.

"Well, you must realise that she is extremely suitable. Not just because you seem genuinely taken with her, but because of the alliance you would be making", Éothain pointed out. He did not need to explain further. It was all too clear why he thought Lady Lothíriel was "suitable", and what was the nature of the alliance he was thinking of. However, Imrahil would probably have things to say about this thought, should he be a part of the conversation.

"It's not like that. I haven't tried to court her. She's a friend, more or less", said Éomer quickly. He wished he could somehow explain this to Éothain, but it was not so easy when even he did not wholly comprehend it. Yes, the lady was fair and she was very eligible from a purely political point of view. However, he could not bring himself to regard her as a means to an end. Since their first meeting in the Houses of Healing, he was... she was more important than that. She was a friend and he could never treat her as a merely prudent choice for a bride. Not to mention, it was clear how she and her father would respond, should he actually suggest a marriage.

Éothain gave him a sharp stare, and he would probably have pursued the matter further, hadn't Amrothos joined them. He was beaming with enthusiasm and vigour for the hunt, talking eagerly about the game they would fell today and even suggesting a bet on who made the most impressive kill. But Éomer's mind was at least half still in the matter he had spoken of with Éothain, and he couldn't fully share in his friend's excitement.

They had not got very far when there was sudden movement in the forest and one of the footmen called them to a halt. Then a great, low-hanging branch of a tree was carefully lifted, and there appeared a woman in blue.

"Don't shoot me! I'm not a deer", she spoke loudly, but even from afar Éomer saw her wry smile.

"Sister! What in the name of Oromë are you doing here in the woods during a hunt?" Amrothos exclaimed and pushed himself through the crowd. A part of the company kept on going, but Éomer was rather more fascinated by her sudden appearance than any game in the woods. She was a rare creature, at any rate.

"I have been walking far and wide long before you lot came storming through the forest. Surely that is no surprise to you", she replied and lifted her familiar wicker basket as though to emphasise her point.

"Of course I should know you would be skulking around in here, sister. Sometimes I think you like trees better than people", Amrothos said, making a face at her. "Are you going to be burrowing in the bushes for much longer? I don't want anybody to shoot you by accident."

"No, I am quite finished. I was about to leave in any case", she said, wrinkling her nose at her brother as though no other comment on her part was necessary.

It was now Éomer stepped forward, realising his chance had come.

"Why don't I escort you back, my lady?" he offered and gave her a tentative smile. She returned it.

"Very well, Sire", she replied as she passed by her brother.

"But what about the hunt?" Amrothos asked in shock, as though he couldn't in any way understand why his Rohirric friend would rather choose her company than the excitement of the game.

"I'll catch up with you", Éomer said, waving his hand to dismiss the matter. But Éothain's eyes were wide and filled with curiosity, and he did not seem to know whether to be disappointed because of his king was digressing in this way, or intrigued to see whether his dearest wishes of Éomer marrying at last were getting slightly closer to fruition.

The young king gestured at his captain and guards to keep their distance: he wanted to talk to her in as much privacy as was possible. They fell back without a word and Éomer paid no more heed to them, even though he could feel his captain's eyes poring through the back of his skull.

Instead, he fixed his eyes on the woman now walking by his side. He adjusted his longer stride to hers and kept his pace slower than normal. When he offered to carry her basket, she smiled and shook her head.

It was impossible not to stare. There was beautiful colour on her cheeks and brisk light in her eyes. Her hair had perhaps been braided neatly at some point, but a few dark strands had escaped and were now framing her face. She was dressed sensibly in a simple, well-made dress, loose enough for trekking in the woods but without any frilly decorations that would cling to branches and bushes as she walked. Her hands were stained green and brown and she was strange and lovely and wonderful.

"My lord, while I thank you for your company, you needn't have come with me. Amrothos will be quite disappointed", she said and cast him a soft smile.

"I'll have plenty of chance to catch up with him and the rest of the company. The hunt will go on for many hours to come, so I doubt I'll miss much even if I walk back with you", he said with a shake of his head. "Did you get a good haul before we came trampling through the woods?"

She let out a soft laugh.

"It's fairly good. Many things are excellent for gleaning at this time, and spring in these woods is always very generous", she replied lightly, clearly enjoying herself for getting to talk about her passion. "You have to be careful with some plants, though, and wait for the right time to collect them. There are even some, it's said, that are at the height of their powers at particular times of day... or night."

"Is that so? Do you go gleaning in the middle of the night?" he asked her. Somehow, it wouldn't have surprised him to catch her wandering in the forest in moonlight.

"I would, but Father has asked me not to, even though I've told him a hundred times I am perfectly safe", she said and looked a little bit displeased.

"How are you so certain?" he asked her in genuine interest.

Lady Lothíriel did not respond at first. She looked ahead and for a moment, the glimmer of her eyes seemed diminished.

"I know these woods like the back of my hand. There are a thousand hiding places here for one who knows their way around. Orcs have never got this near Dol Amroth and pirates are not a very formidable foe in the middle of a forest", she said at length. Perhaps all these things were correct, but Éomer felt like it wasn't the whole truth. However, she would reveal to him only as much as she chose.

"You are unusual", he said, the words spilling out before he could stop them. Immediately he regretted it – he didn't want to sound so coarse and blunt.

She glanced at him quickly and he thought there was something worried in her eyes.

"Does it bother you, my lord?" she asked him softly.

"Not at all. Rather it feels like... like I've known you for many years. And it's a good feeling. It's easy to speak to you; I don't need to watch my manner or my words so much", he explained, and at the same time, it felt right, and yet he was also marvelling at how straightforwardly these confessions fell from his mouth. Moreover, she did not seem to think that he was being too bold with her.

"I do not know if I have earned the honour of such sincerity, my lord", Lady Lothíriel said in a low voice. Did he just imagine it, or was she growing more hesitant? Perhaps he was too bold and she was just too polite to tell him to shut his mouth and get lost.

"My lady, I can think of a very few people who have earned it as well as you have. Or do you not remember the night after the Battle of Pelennor fields?" he asked her, watching her face for a sign of what she thought.

"I remember it well, Sire", she replied and looked down.

The moment had come. Éomer felt abruptly breathless over the idea that he might at last know the truth behind her words... I see the sun shining down on your path. It echoed in his head even now.

Éomer cleared his throat and directed a keen stare at her, "My lady, so many times over this past year I have thought about that night. I have pondered your words so often that I doubt I will ever forget a single one of them. But there was something in particular that has puzzled me... you told me you saw sunlight on my path. What made you say that?"

She was silent for a time and kept her eyes straight ahead. For the first time in their knowing one another, he thought she was truly troubled.

"You looked so alone and so in pain. I only wished to comfort and encourage you, and it seemed like the right thing to say", Lady Lothíriel said quietly.

Éomer frowned. He didn't know what he had expected to say, but this was not it. What had he hoped? What could he think her meaning to be? So many times, he had told himself it was just this: a few kind words to a distraught man. And yet this stupid, stubborn voice still kept insisting she was not telling him everything.

"My lady... I do not wish to be difficult, or pester you with my questions. But I must know. Are you telling me the whole truth?" he asked her. He kept his voice as calm and soft as he possibly could, although he felt so anxious that his skin crawled with it. He wanted to grasp her hands, speak her given name and search for the truth in her eyes, but he knew there were boundaries he could not cross with Prince Imrahil's only daughter.

Again she was silent for painfully long. It made him wonder. What concern or trepidation held her back? Had she not seen through him already – didn't she know that his heart and mind was bared to her so intimately at this point that she could safely reveal her own?

Maybe he was assuming too much in his curiosity and impatience. He could not actually say that he knew her. Just one such encounter as their chance meeting in the Houses of Healing did not earn him her inmost thoughts. Only her husband may one day have that right, and even he would have to work for it.

"Sire, believe me when I say that I do not seek to offend you, or lie to you. Please accept the words I gave you that night as a gift from one lonely wanderer in the night to another", she said at last, her normally collected voice full of anxiety.

He looked at her unhappily. At the same time, he ached to question her further, and yet the heavy apprehension in her voice alarmed him to the point of wanting to spare her.

She looked at him briefly and there seemed to be a deep sort of pain in her eyes; for some reason, this conversation was deathly difficult for her. Éomer could not understand why.

"I beg your pardon, my lord. I know my answers are frustrating to you, but I have no better to offer", she said, shaking her head as though in violent disagreement. Then, without another glance at him, she said, "I must get going."

They were nearly at the edge of the wood, which they had reached without him realising it. She walked swiftly away, head bowed, and her basket held closely to herself.

Éomer halted there under a great beech and with a troubled heart, he watched her go.

To be continued.


A/N: Here is a new chapter! I hope you enjoyed it. :)

So, Éomer grows more and more taken with Lothíriel, even if he's not yet keen to admit it. However, he may have revealed more to Imrahil than he had intended. As for the lady, she keeps her secrets to herself.

Hildórien, Land of the Followers, was a place far in the east of Middle-earth, where first Men woke to life at the first sunrise. I think this might be a matter of very obscure lore at the time of the events of this story, but Lothíriel, being well-educated, is familiar with it and other histories that are in good part forgotten in the realms of Men.

Westernesse, or Númenor in the Elven tongue, was the land of the Men of the West, descendants of Edain of the First Age. It was an island raised from the sea by the Valar as a reward for Edain's struggles against Morgoth. The great island was indeed closest to Valinor of all mortal lands and sometimes, the shores of Elvenhome could be glimpsed from afar by those of keen sight. Númenor was a goodly, prosperous land, and outside Valinor (and excepting Lórien) it was the only place where mellyrn grew. I think the men of Númenor would have brought many plants out of their homeland to Middle-earth; in the Fellowship of the Ring, it is mentioned that athelas (or Kingsfoil) was one of these things. Dol Amroth, being an area where they settled before the fall and having favourable climate, might be a place where many things first brought out from Númenor would still be thriving.

Thank you for reading and reviewing, and don't forget to leave a comment, if you got time!


chloeafter - Thank you!

Boramir - Glad you liked it! I believe Lothíriel is very determined indeed, though she does compromise here and there, if only for the sake of her father's nerves.

EStrunk - Thanks! I think it's in good part what draws him to her, this natural way of treating him as a friend and not a highly eligible man.

And I do imagine that being left so impatient would be nerve-wrecking from him indeed. ;)

fantasticferret - Thank you!

JennyVDM - There may be more than a few, but we'll see about it! ;)

xXMizz Alec VolturiXx - What her deal is remains to be seen for the time being!

sai19 - I think the mistaken identity and misunderstandings might have been a more obvious way to go, but on the other hand, I don't think it would have fit this story. Not to mention, I really can't see Lothíriel of this story letting it happen.

I may also be too obvious in saying this, but Éomer starts to think she's pretty when he realises how her treatment of him is different compared to the rest of young women he has met lately. ;)

Megingjoro/aryaputra - Thank you! I am very glad to hear it, and I hope that the story will continue to deliver!

Jo - Thanks!

Leilal - Me too, pal! But sadly, the muse for that one seems to be dead. :/

Catspector - Indeed - she's quite a puzzle, and he is quite transfixed.

blasttyrant - Glad you found the story eventually! :)

SwanKnightoftheNorth - I very much intend to continue.

Downloaded how? For what purposes?

Wtiger - Sounds like more people have been having that problem. But anyway, I'm glad you're liking the story!