Éomer stood several feet away from Lothíriel, holding the long rope attached to her bridle. With as much confidence as one would expect of the king of the horselords, he clicked his tongue. "Walk on." She looked at him for a few moments, looking at the rope in his hands. On the other side, Fréawine stood in a similar position with Firefoot, though Éomer's mount had no hesitation.

'What if I don't want to walk circles around you?' After a few moments of waiting, Éomer sighed.

"You'll feel better once you do." He chuckled, "Béma, you're a stubborn one, aren't you." Deciding that it couldn't really hurt to do as she was told, she turned and began to walk slowly. Whenever she got the else of the circle, she would feel the rope give a slight tug, pulling her back gently. She could feel her muscles stretch with each step. After being mostly stationary for so long, she had to admit that it felt wonderful. What made it even better was the open sky and sun above.

After a few minutes of walking, she felt better than she had since she'd first woken up as a horse. Éomer clicked his tongue and Lothíriel's instinct told her to go faster. She thought for a moment about being a little stubborn, showing Éomer that he should ask, rather than order, but he seemed to know what he was doing.

Easily, she moved into a trot. The movement felt different as a horse. As a rider, she'd had to essentially stand up in the saddle – a difficult feat in a side saddle – to avoid being jostled about, but as a horse, it felt similar to how she would skip about as a child before her governess could correct her. Not only was the exercise light, but she felt graceful and poised. She looked over to Éomer to see him watching her carefully. While there was some amusement on his expression, his look was mostly contemplative.

"She has a good gait." A familiar female voice called. Lothíriel spotted her as she turned within the edge of the circle. Éowyn was sitting in trousers and a legnthy tunic on top of the fence post of the corral.

"We'll know for sure once she starts running." Éomer clicked his tongue twice and called out, "Let's move, Flower Dancer." Lothíriel, feeling proud of herself from the praise picked up her speed. While the trotting had been exciting, the rush of the air past her face intoxicating. She had ridden in a gallop before, though as a human, she had never felt that rush as she had to maintain focus on not falling out of the saddle. Without that concern, she could simply enjoy the feelings that surrounded.

"She seems happy." Éowyn called out, "and you seem less troubled."

"Well I'm no longer worried that Princess Lothíriel is lost or dead in the middle of the plains." At the mention of her name, Lothíriel came to a sudden halt, drawing out a strange, questioning expression. She slowly began to walk again and Éomer shrugged, holding the rope loosely.

"I don't know what to make of her," Éowyn continued, "To have come all the way here, only to run back home in the dead of night, though she didn't take any of her father's horses. That speaks of both cowardice and courage, though perhaps instead of courage, it's just a sheltered ignorance that led her to make that choice."

"Whatever the case was, I'm glad that Haradric woman managed to find out her name so she could inform her family."

'Haradric woman?' She wondered what on earth they were talking about when an it dawned on her. The fortune teller – who had mysteriously disappeared right after their meeting – must have come and lied about Lothíriel's whereabouts.

"It's odd that she left no tracks, though I suppose a woman descended from a long line of elves could easily leave without disturbing the grass and ground around her." Éowyn stated with a shrug. "I don't see why it matters. With this little escapade, it seems she won't make a good wife for you, let alone a good queen of Rohan."

"It is a bit of a shame that things have gotten this out of hand. I thought from my friendship with Imrahil and his sons, and what I have seen of their character, it would be nice to at least befriend the princess, but it seems she has no desire for anything of the sort." Éomer shook his head lightly.

"I really feel bad for Imrahil, having to trek all the way back to Dol Amroth, waiting for either his daughter to arrive or word to be sent, saying she's been found." Éowyn sighed. "But enough of such things. Flower Dancer and Firefoot seem adequately warmed up, how about a race?"

A/N: A nice little chapter and some fun interactions between loving siblings. What is the fortune teller planning? Guess you'll have to wait and find out!

Hope you enjoyed this chapter!