Lothíriel felt her heart skip a beat as she saw Éomer watching her. Her already flushed face brightened a deeper shade of red before she turned away, choosing to pay more attention to a little girl retelling her story to a doll. It was adorable hearing her speak in little lisps as she worked to pronounce some of the harder words. From the corner of her eye, she could see Éomer still staring at her. What was he thinking?

"I don't think I've ever seen someone tell a story as masterfully as you!" Hedda came forward, offering a hand to help Lothíriel up from her seat. As she stood, the motion seemed to instill new life into Éomer and he added his own comment.

"You have a real talent for this sort of thing. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought you were taught by one of Rohan's best storytellers."

Lothíriel licked her lips bashfully. "In a way I did." When they looked at her, confusion clear on their faces, she continued her explaination. "A few years back, before the war truly began to rage through our lands, a merchant came to Dol Amroth. He had traveled through many lands, recording the stories of those lands. My brother happened to meet him bought the gift for me as a gift. I've always been an avid reader." She fidgeted with her hands, under their scrutiny. "Each place had different ways of telling their stories and though the tome only had a few recorded of each, they clearly stood out.

"Bree and what I would guess are the hobbit folks' way is very light with a great amount of comedy used, though they are not afraid to be serious should the occasion arise. The elves' is very similar to Gondor's though it is more reliant on musical accompaniment. And Rohan, " she glanced between the two who were listening as well as Éowyn and Éothain who had joined to listen. "Well, Rohan is very different in the way that they tell the stories. There is a rhythm to them where it's almost like a chant, but that only serves to bring the listener to attention. It has a more somber, song like quality, though it's not quite as simple as that. The detail everything is given allows the words to flow outward like a whirlwind in a field, spreading and whipping everything into place." She would have continued but as she saw a strange smile on Éomer's face and glanced down at her feet. "I don't mean to ramble."

"I would have liked to meet this merchant." Éomer's deep voice was quiet and contemplative. "Most rohirric stories are passed down from father to son, mother to daughter. This tradition is mostly due to an inability to read or write among the commonfolk."

"What stories from Rohan did you read?" Éowyn wanted to know.

"The story of Eorl the Young and Felaróf, The Gift of Calenardhon and the Oath of Eorl, and The Reign of Helm Hammerhand." She listed without much thought. All four rohirrim nodded to the titles.

"I'm not very surprised that those were the stories the merchant was able to gather." Éothian stated simply. "The history of the Mark is something that nearly every rohirric child grows up hearing."

They probably would have continued that conversation, but before anyone could say anything else, one of the children tugged on Hedda's sleeve. She bent down to tend the child. A few moments of silence, Lothíriel nodded awkwardly before stepping away from the group. Éomer stepped with her, catching her hand. The contact between their skin sent a shock through her as she saw the strange look in his eyes. She fought the urge to swiftly pull her hand away but he must have seen some of the hesitation on her own face because just as quickly as he held it, he let it go.

"Are you well rested?" He asked quietly. She nodded before he continued. "I wondered if you would feel up to joining us at the bonfire this evening."

"Indeed, I was hoping that I would be able to go." She didn't want to think about how her heart seemed to quicken at the implied invitation. 'It is merely an offer between friends. No doubt he wants to be sure I don't feel neglected as his guest. Don't let an infatuation ruin this new friendship.' She decided rationally, calming herself. His next words seemed to cement that belief.

"Very good," Éomer smiled brightly, "Éowyn was on her way to change for the evening. Her performance requires a specific dress. You can join our party this evening. No doubt we'll be seated in the forefront, allowing you to have an unobstructed view."

Lothíriel returned the smile. "It would be my pleasure."

A/N: I always enjoyed the idea of readers who use books to travel throughout the world when they don't have the means to otherwise. In my opinion, being able to travel in the way only a reader can is a gift only a writer can give. Back when Lothíriel explained that she traveled the world by learning their languages, I began to wonder if she would simply be satisfied with that, and the answer was clearly, of course not!

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a review for me so I know how you like the story thus far!

See you next chapter!

P.S.

I'm not going to promise how quickly the updates will be simply because I don't want to anger the muses and jinx myself.