Many days passed and the people of Edoras received no news from Gondor. No word of the fate of the men fighting for its freedom. The days turned to weeks and the air of foreboding thickened in the minds of those left behind. Within the city of Edoras, the women went about their business as usual. Weaving cotton, ploughing and planting the field and what they did best; cooking and feeding their families. What little of their families remained. This was mainly out of necessity but also as a way of distraction.

Inside Meduseld Princess Lothiriel lived a lonely existence in those first few days. She was overcoming the sickness that she had grown used to when it set in. Now she watched as the slight swell of her tummy began to grow. It was a slow process, that she had seen many others go through times before. Lothiriel knew the changes in her body would be slow at first and easy to conceal from prying eyes. Eventually- and somewhat unnaturally- her body would change overnight and the child would be impossible to hide.

This would not stop her. Realizing early on that she would be more use in the village than cooped up inside the vast castle, Lothiriel visited the small town everyday to see what help she could offer. An armed escort went with her wherever she went at Beorthred's insistence. At first the womenfolk were a little apprehensive to offer up work to a foreign Princess. Lothiriel thought this was a slight on her character but soon realised it was more out of respect than insult. She had eventually persuaded the local baker's wife that she was more than capable helping to prepare and bake the bread. The young woman found it therapeutic to beat and pound the dough, as it allowed her to release pent up frustration and worries. The young lady learnt very quickly the quantities of each ingredient needed to make a good wholesome loaf, but she couldn't quite master the baking time. The millar assured her that it was nearly practice and more experience she needed to acquire that skill.

Lothiriel had been back in Edoras almost three weeks and working long hours in the village when she was invited to an evening meal at a local woman's house. She graciously accepted and followed the baker's wife to a thatched cottage where the others had gathered. The home was humble but full of warmth and welcome. Lothiriel was offered the head of the table, which she refused discreetly by taking a seat in the middle of the table. The women chatted amicably as a large copper pot of stew was passed around, each woman taking what they wanted before passing it on to the next. Bread that had been baked that morning was passed around next. When it reached Lothiriel she passed it on quickly which garnered a twitter of laughter from the group.

"I will never look at bread the same way." She chortled.

As the light waned outside, candles were lit inside the cottage and the women began to talk of more important things. Grave things. They didn't dwell on it for long, Lothiriel surmised those thoughts were as close in their minds as they were in hers. Therefore they made a vow to keep their conversation short. As the last ounce of natural light ebbed away the women began to dissipate and return home. The princesses armed guard waited patiently for her outside the house.

"I hope you have enjoyed yourself this evening my lady." Said the farmer's wife.

"I have Dunhere...thank you for your invitation."

"I hope we haven't kept you out too late. You look tired if you don't mind my saying so"

"Not at all." Lothiriel lied. She was exhausted.

"You're made of strong stuff my lady. I was perpetually tired when I carried my bairns...especially my first."

"But I'm,"

"I know that look my lady. You may not realise it but a woman has a certain look you see...when she's carrying something so precious. I saw that look in your eyes that first day you returned back."

"I must ask you Dunhere...please don't reveal me. Not just yet."

"Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me...but...and I beg your pardon my lady...it won't be a secret much longer."

Lothiriel looked down at her stomach and giggled nervously as she cradled her growing bump.

"Perhaps you are right."

"Goodnight my lady." Dunhere smiled warmly.

"Goodnight."

Lothiriel left the warmth of the thatched cottage and nodded at her guards as she sauntered past them. They traipsed up the steep incline slowly back towards Meduseld when a horn blast echoed throughout the city. Lamps ignited suddenly around the village as the horn sounded a second time. Womenfolk and children began scrambling from their doors and into the streets. Everyone there peered into the darkening sky towards the city gates. They creaked open excruciatingly slow. A dusty and tired Rider sped through the gates towards the stairs of Meduseld. Lothiriel, her guards and several women followed him on fast feet as he brought the horse to a deftly halt.

Beorthred at his post appeared at the top of the stairs and tore down them, one foot barely touching the floor before the other moved forwards.

"Rider! What news?" He commanded as calmly as he could muster. He grabbed the reins of the horse and helped the Rider steady him.

"I bring glad news captain!" The rider shouted triumphantly as he dismounted his horse.

The people around him waited with bated breath before he spoke once more.

"We have prevailed! The men of the West have won...Sauron is defeated!"

There were gasps and whimpers from all around, a few subdued cheers and plenty of tears. They could not believe their ears.

"And of our Lord?" Lothiriel asked from the throng whilst pushing her way forward.

Beorthred looked towards Lothiriel as did the Rider. The young man seemed elated and yet somewhat pained.

"Theoden is dead. Buried in the Hallows of Minas Tirith." He explained stoically.

There were more gasps and cries from the people gathered. Some women clung to one another in their grief.

"What of his sister-son and heir?" One of the guards put fearfully.

"Eomer King...he lives."

Lothiriel felt a great weight lift from her shoulders. She closed her eyes silently and felt a single tear stream down her cheek. The relieved woman gathered her thoughts quickly and asked after Eowyn.

"The White Lady...please tell me she lives."

"She does my lady. A malady of the darkest sort plagued her...but she is recovering."

"What are our orders?" Beorthred asked.

"Eomer King's final order remains unchanged. Protect the Princess."

The young Rider gestured Lothiriel's way.

"When will he return?" She asked hopefully.

"Soon my Lady. He is making plans as we speak."

o0o

"My Lord Eomer, may I have a word?"

Eomer was on his way to the stables, much on his mind, when he heard the unmistakable voice of Prince Imrahil. He had tried so desperately to avoid the sovereign in recent days, ever since they returned from the Black Gate. They had met on the battlefield outside Minas Tirith, and had fought side by side many times since that fateful day. Imrahil was a good man, a fearsome warrior and a skilled diplomat. It was no wonder his only daughter held similar traits to the Prince. Eomer instantly liked the older man, but since the first few hours of uneasy peace, the man realised that he would now have to lie through his teeth, whilst in the presence of Imrahil.

Eomer fleetingly thought of quickening his pace, feigning ignorance to Imrahil's call. However he thought better. The soldier stopped in his tracks and turned to face the Prince.

"Prince Imrahil good morning."

"Morning Marshall...forgive me...King Eomer." Imrahil replied and offered a curt bow.

"I am not King yet sir." Eomer said forebodingly.

"I must seek your forgiveness again. How foolish of me."

"Think nothing of it."

"Your sister tells me you wish to return Theoden King to Edoras. When do you plan to leave?"

Eomer wanted to lie desperately, but could not think of an excuse, "We leave at first light."

"Excellent!" Imrahil's tone was ecstatic, "I know your reasons for returning home are not exactly pleasant...but I was hoping you may indulge a request?"

"My lord?"

"You tell me that your kinsman died this past year...my daughter still resides in Edoras. I wish for her to return with me to Dol Amroth."

"Why?"

The question slipped out of Eomer's lips before he realised what he had said and how impertinent it sounded.

Imrahil was clearly taken aback by the soldiers question but obliged him cordially, "Lothiriel is still a young woman. Her prospects are promising and she could still make a fine match Eomer."

Eomer felt like his insides had been torn out. He had to bite his tongue to stop him from revealing all to the Prince. Lothiriel would hate him later if he revealed her now. Yes, the war was over and much had changed in those few short weeks. However the world had not changed that much in Eomer's mind. A noble woman caught in the family way out of wedlock, was a bleak prospect. His uncle may have been accepting of their situation, knowing that Eomer would one day sit on the throne in Meduseld and his issue would ensure the future of Rohan. Prince Imrahil as honourable as he was, was not the same man.

"Lady Lothiriel is only recently widowed and will always be under the protection of the Rohirrim."

Eomer said promisingly despite knowing differently.

"And I will always be forever grateful for that. But I must confess I was never completely content with the arrangement." Imrahil attempted tactfully. He saw Eomer's confusion and finished quickly,

"Do not mistake my meaning. I understand your kinsman to have been a good man. But Rohan stands many miles from Lothiriel's home of Dol Amroth...and it pained me knowing she was so far from my side."

Eomer nodded gravely.

"If you would permit it, upon your return to Gondor I would be most gracious if you would return Lothiriel also"

The soldier looked hopefully at his friend and asked, "You would not sooner join us at Edoras?"

"Alas...Aragorn refuses to take up his kingly seat until reparations are made to the city. He leaves me in charge in his stead."

"Of course." Eomer was positively beaming. This was just the news he hoped for. It would take many days ride to Edoras and back again, Lothiriel and he still had time to act.

A/N - Okay I know i skipped a huge chunk of the main storyline from the books here. However the final battles are what they are, I can't change them. Also I may have got some events the wrong way around here? But I can't remember if Aragorn was crowned first before Theoden's funeral procession? It suits my story this way around though. Hope you like this chapter. Please continue to RR! Thanks Mrs-E x