The next morning I rose early. I had spent most of the night awake - lying on my back in the dark and tumbling over and over increasingly unfeasible schemes to avoid doing what I knew I had to. Towards dawn I had drifted off into a fitful unconsciousness in which I lived, over and over in nightmares, the conversation to come.

I dressed in a dark silver riding gown of cotton and silk and braided my own hair. I splashed some water on my face to take out the puffiness (I had woken in tears) though there was nothing to mask the black smudges like bruises under my eyes from the lack of sleep.

The dawn mists still lingered and the early chill made me shiver slightly as I made my way quickly down to the stables, feeling hollow and somehow distant from my own body. The doors were shut as I approached and at first I thought that they were deserted but as I got nearer I heard two voices inside.

"You can't possibly be serious! I admit that she has a good wit and some charm to her. But the things I've heard about her..."

"Éowyn, surely you're not telling me that you're taking court gossip seriously these days. You haven't been away from the Mark that long..."

"At some point it stops becoming simply hearsay. Everyone who has ever met her says the woman is an absolute monster!"

There was a low rumble of a laugh. "She isn't a monster. She is a viper perhaps. But I think she might be my viper and one I intend to keep around as long as she will agree to it."

"What? What does that even mean? Your viper, what..."

I pushed open the door to the stable as loudly as I could, startling the two of them. "Good morning, Éomer. Good morning, Éowyn. Am I late?"

Éomer shook his head. "Right on time."

"Are you coming riding with us, Lady Éowyn?"

Éowyn looked at me for a long moment. "I regret to say that I will not be accompanying you this morning. It isn't good for the health of the baby to ride this close to the end of the pregnancy."

That is just as well, I thought numbly. No one but Éomer to see the scene I was about to cause. As she left the stables she gave her brother one last meaningful look, but he only gazed coolly back. She finally sighed once before leaving the stable.

Éomer quickly saddled Wind Chaser and we rode out into the dawn. I let him set the pace and he returned the favor by choosing one that I found comfortable. We trotted out over the fields and circled the city once before coming back to the paddocks instead of the stables. I was surprised by that, having expected a much longer ride.

He dismounted, and then came to help me off my horse. He took me by the waist and through the sensation of his hands on my waist I was seized by the memory of the night when we'd danced together and he'd taken the ribbon from my hair. I should have kissed him that night. Or last night. Now I probably never would.

I was tall, almost as tall as my brothers, but when he put me on the ground he seemed to loom over me. He smiled and took my hand, kissing it gently. "You are becoming a good rider, Lothíriel," he said softly. "You have no idea how that pleases me."

"I'm sure I'll forget now that I'm back in Minas Tirith and have other things to do. You know, balls and tea and such." My voice seemed so harsh and loud compared to his, so inappropriate to the soft morning light.

"Perhaps."

He didn't let go of my hand but instead linked my arm in his and led me to the paddock. Inside a few horses were moving around but there was one that drew the eye immediately: coal black and magnificent. She moved like Queen Arwen on a dance floor, barely seeming to touch the grass as she walked across it. I couldn't wait to see her put through her paces and even more than that, I felt a poignant longing to feel her run beneath me. What would she be if she was given her head entirely? Like a dream, I imagined.

I looked at Éomer. "Who is she?" I asked.

He needed no clarification. "Her name is Nightwind."

I nodded. "Is she a Mearas?"

He shook his head. "No, those come once in a lifetime. But she has some common blood with Shadowfax a few generations back. She is swift as water over smooth rocks to ride and her manners are much better than a Mearas' would be... would you like to see her a little closer?"

"Yes," I breathed.

We ducked between the slats of the fence and went out into the field. I felt a strange interloper into the world but walking with Éomer I felt I had at least a guide. We crossed the paddock and then, with a whistle and a gesture, he called Nightwind to him. She came at a trot and put her nose into his hand, as daintily as I might give him my fingers for a kiss. He mumbled something in Rohirric, too soft and low for me to understand, caressing her shoulder with a hand.

He looked at me. "You can introduce yourself if you want."

I offered her my fingers, as I knew was polite, and then joined him as he stroked her shoulder. Her coat was soft as my finest silk but warm, and under it strong muscles rippled. It was hypnotic: the feel of the hot sun and the warm coat and the soft, soothing sounds Éomer made as he too caressed the horse.

We stood together for how long I don't know but by the time we walked back to the fence and ducked through it the sun was fully up and the birds were singing in the trees. When we passed under the fence and moved back into the world of humans a change came over both of us, and I remembered what I had come to do for the first time since we had begun riding.

"Éomer..." I began as soon as we were alone in the stables.

But he seemed to have remembered his purpose too. "She reminded me of the graceful way you move when you forget to be conscious of yourself."

He turned towards me and found my hands with his. He took them both in his large ones and brought them to his lips. He had kissed the back of my hand many times before but now it was the tips he brought to his lips instead. He kissed them gently and his beard, which was just long enough to be soft but not so long so as to be wiry, brushed against the sensitive skin of my palms. The morning sunlight caught his brilliant blond hair making it look as gold as the roof of Meduseld. His blue eyes were practically translucent and there was something in them that was unexpectedly tender.

I could barely breathe but I managed to gasp. "Oh?"

"Lothíriel I want to give Nightwind to you."

I could barely get the words out, "I thought you said in the Mark a gift of a horse meant marriage."

He smiled indulgently and kissed my finger tips again. "It does. I want you to be my wife, Lothíriel of Dol Amroth."

For a long second I simply looked at him, seeing clearly what it would mean to be his wife. I could kiss him whenever I wanted and I could tell him I loved him. No one would be able to tell me I couldn't care for him when he was sick or wounded. It would be my right to greet him after a long journey, take off his armor and then let him crawl into my warm bed, cold and hungry and wanting me. He would show me what it felt like to be devoured by that voracious longing I sometimes saw in his eyes when he looked at me. And I could give him children, soft little blond babes perhaps with their father's eyes and goodness.

And the rage I felt for those lost things was bottomless: more than enough for what I had to do. I knew that what I said next had to be convincing. Éomer wasn't the kind of man to let something be taken from him. If he suspected that I was lying to him, that I wanted him at least as badly as he wanted me, he would never let me go. But his best idea of how to handle Amrothos would be a duel, which would accomplish nothing. Waving a sword at Amrothos did about as much good as waving it at smoke.

I wrenched my hands from his. "Oh, Éomer, you must be joking."

He let my fingers go and his brow crinkled. "I assure you, Lothíriel I am not." His voice was soft but there was something like a sharp steel edge in it.

I laughed mockingly. "I don't think I would make a very good Queen of the Mark."

"Why not?"

Later, what would cause me the most shame and pain was how easily the lies came. I didn't have to think about how to hurt Éomer. Like his physical armor he had built up protection around himself of honor and pride. But I found the weak spots in it as instinctively as any master swordsman. I sighed. "I do admit that Rohan has some limited appeal but I don't think I could ever make it my home. A few months is fine, but I think it's obvious I could never live somewhere so...rustic long-term."

For the first time something cold slipped into Éomer's voice. "That is not the impression you gave."

"What exactly was the impression I gave?" I asked, raising my voice and injecting a haughty, pedantic note into it. I wanted him angry. When his temper mastered him it would be easy to have unforgivable things said between us.

"Bema woman!" He wasn't shouting but there was something of a bark in his voice now. "The way you took to the Mark was incredible. The way you would chatter on to Gænwyn in your cobbled together little made-up language, or ride out with your brother to map with my Riders, or jump into the stream on Yule... and the way you looked at me. And last night you asked me to kiss you."

I had been waiting for him to say that and I was ruthless as I lunged in for the kill. I spread my hands. "I am not sure what you mean exactly...I enjoyed myself of course but that is my business: to please myself wherever I go, whatever the cost. I don't deny that I like you, my lord but there could never be anything between us romantically. I would never..."

"Don't tell me I made it all up!" He cut me off.

"I am sorry if you mistook my friendship, my lord."

"I didn't mistake anything!"

He seized my wrist and dragged me back towards him. One strong arm went around my back and he pulled me flush against his chest. His lips were so close my whole world seemed to narrow suddenly to just him. My breath came out in a little ragged gasps and for a second I forgot about everything. I wanted him to kiss me, which I knew would obliterate everything in my world just for a second. But he hesitated. Once he leaned forward quickly to capture my lips but drew back just as quickly with a growl of frustration.

In his moment of hesitation I had time to think. I knew that if he kissed me all would be lost. I would never be able to hide my feelings once our lips touched. In desperation I whispered, "I won't be your Queen, my lord, but perhaps if you had a more casual arrangement in mind I could be more accommodating..."

It took him a slow moment to understand what I'd said. Once he did, he reacted as he might if I had spat full in his face. He jerked back from me and for the first time I saw real rage on his face. If I had thought him angry with me before in the stables of Aldburg, I had been wrong. He turned from me for a long moment and I could see him struggling to keep his rage in check. When he finally spoke his voice was a deadly whisper, "You would have me dishonor the daughter of one of my greatest friends?"

I said nothing.

His face was a mask of rage. "How can you be the same woman who I knew in Edoras?"

Carefully I straightened the fall of my dress. "I told you who I was all along my lord: a lady of the court of Minas Tirith." It was you who chose not to listen. Most people are not half as honest as I have been with you."

"I think, my lady, that you are no judge of honesty," he said icily.

I sighed, flouncing my skirts. "I am going home, my lord. You saw what you wanted to see in me I suppose. I am sorry for any discomfort it has caused you but I am unwilling to stand around while you cause a scene."

The black look of barely contained rage on Éomer's face didn't frighten me. Anger had always been the emotion that Éomer knew best and he would be able to deal with that old friend. It was the shadow of something that lay behind his anger that I would see for months after in the second just before I fell asleep: pain and confusion. He was a warrior by nature and never one for introspection. He would take what I had said at face value and it would be like a festering wound he wouldn't know how to heal.

As I turned to leave I heard him begin to take the saddle off Firefoot, working the cinch of the belt a little too roughly and making the horse whicker in protest.

I walked back up to the house in a daze, went to my room and shut the door. After I had left Éomer a sudden buzzing had started in my ears and when the door slammed shut behind me it increased until I could hear nothing else. I went and lay in my bed, curled my knees to my chest with my hands over my ears, only too pleased to let the noise drown out my thoughts.

Éomer left a few days later when the Beltane celebrations were over. I didn't have to say goodbye to him because the maids thought I was sick. I had lain in bed for a full day after that morning at the stables and refused any food. Convincing them that I couldn't go downstairs to greet a guest had been easy work.

Erchirion, however, wasn't so easily fooled. I had told him the day before he would be going back to Rohan alone, though I hadn't told him why. "I don't know when you are going to be able to see him again. Are you sure you don't want me to help you down the stairs?" he asked.

"No, I am sure we will see each other some time or another."

Erchirion gave me a strange look. "But Lothi..."

"I said no, Erchirion!"

He had opened his mouth as if to say something, but finally had simply given me a probing look that I had returned with the blank, distant hatred I felt for everything. He'd come to the bed and put his hand on my leg through the covers. "Lothi..." he said slowly. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I'd snapped, turning away from him.

"Don't say nothing," he'd said gently. "Something happened between you and Éomer."

There was no use pretending. Erchirion was too smart and had seen too much of my relationship with Éomer to be fooled by anything less than half the truth. "We had a fight." I said at last.

"About what?"

"I told him something he didn't want to hear and he was angry about it."

"What did you tell him?" Erchirion pressed.

"I told him the truth," I said without emotion. "That I wouldn't marry him."

Erchirion let out a long sigh. "He asked you to marry him?"

I nodded.

"And you said no?"

My voice was a howl of unfeigned pain. "Of course I said no! Do you think I would want to live in that backward, uncivilized place? I have a life here! I have friends and things to do here! I could never live in Rohan!"

Erchirion looked down at me with a strange pity in his eyes that felt as if it burned when it fell on me. "You are such a fool, Lothíriel, if you think that," he said finally after a long silence. "And I always thought you were so clever."

"If you are going to insult me you can get out of my chambers."

He had gotten slowly up and kissed my brow, though I tried to writhe away from him. "I hope you feel better," he said softly. "And I hope when you realize the mistake you've made it isn't too late."

"It's already too late," I said hollowly when the door had shut behind him.

When he was gone I went to my travel satchel and opened Gænwyn's gift to my father. It was a beautifully embroidered tapestry of a young woman with dark hair sitting astride a horse. I threw it into the back of my closet, barely able to fight off a howl of pain.

The next month in Minas Tirith I felt more alone than I had when I first arrived in Edoras. Though I was always talking, changing my clothes or being pulled from one ball, sewing circle or party to another, I felt as it all took place behind a window of dark screen that had fallen over all the world. Out of an instinct, as natural to me as hunger, I showed no outward signs of my inner turmoil publicly. My frustration at my helplessness, my compliance in my own unhappiness, made me feel as though I wanted to thrash and thrash until I somehow was able to get away from myself and the body that had said and done such unforgivable things.

Sometimes I woke in the night with my fingers pressed to my lips, stiffing a scream.

I am ashamed to admit that a small part of me longed to go back to my old role in the court. The petty vicious victories I'd won in the past had relieved my misery then and I knew that lashing out would bring me some relief even now. In the crucial moments of court games my blood would be pumping hard enough to drive from my head any thoughts of right or wrong or Éomer. It would also of course cause me more agony in the long run. My awakened conscience, already tortured, would have new barbs to be stuck with if I went back to my old ways and I would like to think that this knowledge alone was enough to keep me from indulging in the only relief I knew of. But what kept me from it even more surely than the thought of increasing my own pain or others was the fact that if I went back Amrothos' victory would be utterly complete. And in those dark days spite was a better shield than any other I had.

Later, when I told Gænwyn the story of those weeks in Minas Tirith, I admitted that I was never really sure that it hadn't simply been sheer spitefulness that had kept me from turning back to my old habits. She had laughed uproariously at that.

"Oh I can't say I'm surprised! That sounds about like you Lothíriel," she'd exclaimed. When she'd seen my slightly hurt look, hidden though I had tried to make it, she'd smiled gently and continued. "No doubt about it child you have something dark inside you that's seen the light of day but these days you're the master of it and not the other way around. Most people never learn that. They either keep those things locked up tight as they can inside them or they let them run loose. It's a rare person indeed who lets their darkness out and then breaks it like a spring colt. And spite, my darling, like any other emotion, is just a means to an end. It can keep you safe, just like love can do you harm. And whatever kept you as you in those days isn't something you have to be ashamed of, not with me anyway."

But until that conversation I had always felt that I had cheated somehow.

For the week he remained in the city Erchirion made an effort to be pleasant to me but the friendship we had enjoyed in Edoras had been broken. He acted as if nothing had happened and continued including me in plans and trying to draw me out but I couldn't stand it. We had gotten to know each other in Rohan and all we had in common was there. When we talked the conversation always circled back to grain and rangeings and Edoras. I began avoiding him. I'd always known better than to pick at a wound.

He told our father of his intention to marry Lithoer and received his blessing. Despite the fact that her lands and dowry were comparatively small our father was pleased with his son's choice. If she was intelligent, gentle and loving he said that he would want no other mother for his grandchildren. My own congratulations were honest if somewhat less enthusiastic than what was merited. As much as I loved my brother, as well as I understood that both of us were only getting what we deserved, the envy in me burned in my chest like scalding liquid swallowed too quickly.

When Erchirion left for Rohan I was relieved.

Amrothos didn't speak to me almost at all. I would have expected him to gloat, to take some sort of pleasure in the events he had orchestrated but, though he was careful to maintain the illusion that we were still intimate, when we were alone he acted as if I wasn't there. He escorted me to parties where he talked and joked with me perfunctorily; at dinner he made sure to treat me as he always had but when we were alone he barely looked at me.

My father asked twice if I was feeling alright but when I told him that I was he didn't press the matter any further seeing that I had fallen back into my old habits. Like Erchirion, the brief intimacy I had built up with my father had been broken on the decision that I had made. But unlike my brother, my father made less of an effort to mend the tear between us. With me and Amrothos both he'd never known quite how to talk to us, particularly after what we'd become. For a man for whom honor was so precious the shame of what his children were was unbearable to him: something so hideous that he didn't want to hear the details or be reminded of it.

Life went on like a waking dream. I went forward almost staggering with the shock of what had happened until the day I saw Lady Éowyn for the first time since Beltane.

It was the first truly hot day of spring and the nobles of the court had all gathered on the lawn of some minor noble to celebrate the engagement of his daughter. Amrothos and I sat with Giril and Eithedis on a blanket under the shade of an enormous tree, drinking and complaining about the spread of food which Giril said was "no more than could be expected from people with such pitiful lands" and of which Eithedis was less forgiving.

I leaned my back against the tree and tried to let my mind go blank. I could see the sky, bright and blue and infinite, through the canopy of the tree. I could feel the earth beneath me and for a moment there was a small amount of peace. I hadn't been out in nature much since my return to Minas Tirith. Wind Chaser, who had only really been loaned to me by Gænwyn, had gone back with Erchirion to Edoras, so I had no horse to ride. And besides, I had no one to ride with: it being considered a pastime only really suitable for ladies in Gondor when strictly necessary. I dug my fingers into the earth and tried to listen to the whisper of the wind instead of the chatter of my companions.

"...the little slut had a dress made that was based on that blue gown I wore to the Yule ball..."

"...whatever he says I know he's sleeping with at least one of his kitchen maids..."

"...she's looking every day more and more rotund and it's not because she's pregnant, her husband is probably impotent and certainly a pederast..."

"I think I'll go get some more wine." I announced abruptly to no one in particular. "Would anyone else like another glass?"

We had seated ourselves at the end of the lawn so I had to walk through the length of it to get to the house, where the refreshments were being served. Small tables, groups of reclining chairs and blankets had been scattered across the grass with groups of men and women in brightly colored fabrics grouped around them. There were also some men and women playing party games. As I walked by one group a young lady made a particularly difficult toss of a small wooden ring onto a stake and squealed with delight as her teammates gleefully congratulated her.

"Cousin! Cousin, Lothíriel!" A voice in the crowd made me turn. My cousin Faramir was standing by a low table with a group of men and women. "Come and keep us company for a moment, Lothíriel. From the eager look on his face he hadn't been told anything of his wife's dislike of me or of my history with her brother. My heart pounded as I crossed the lawn towards them.

I swept the Lady of Ithilien my best curtsey. "It's good to see you again, Lady Éowyn. We haven't met since the Beltane festival."

"No, we haven't," she said, voice tight.

"But of course you know that Lothíriel recently spent six months in Edoras with her brother Erchirion. Tell us how you found it, Cousin." Faramir seemed to notice his wife's chilly demeanor. A note of confusion entered his voice.

"I enjoyed my time in the Mark very much."

Faramir and I talked for a few more minutes about Rohan. He had been to her homeland once before and we compared our impressions of it. But finally the stilted tension emanating from his wife seemed to overwhelm our conversation and he stopped asking me questions. "I have been sent to bring my party more wine. I had better hurry before they dry out in this heat." I said in the uncomfortable silence.

I retreated quickly towards the house. The inside was cool and blessedly absent of people: the principle food had been put on the tables hours ago and there were servants circulating with trays of dessert outside. I leant against the cool wall of the entrance hall and let my head fall back. I tried to relax, to swallow down the lump in my throat and to still my wildly beating heart. The tears I blinked back only with some effort.

Steps on the stairs outside let me know that someone was coming up the stairs. Quickly I stood up, composing myself, but stopped, fingers still smoothing my skirts when I saw who it was. I opened my mouth to say something but the words didn't come.

Lady Éowyn ran an icy gaze up and down me and her face contorted with fury. "Did my brother give you that?" She pointed to the bracelet on my wrist.

Instinctively my fingers went protectively to the familiar silver band of horses circling my wrist. I hadn't been able to make myself stop wearing it. I said nothing.

"You wear it as a trophy I assume? A reminder of another man you've humiliated."

Still I said nothing.

"I suppose I should thank you for saying no. My brother deserves better than a woman like you."

"We agree on that point, Lady Éowyn."

She clenched her jaw. "He fought in the battle for this city. Your home would be destroyed without him; your lands would be in the control of Sauron if my people hadn't come to your aid."

At that a little choking gasp of a laugh escaped from my constricted throat. As if duty or debt had anything to do with what I felt for Éomer. Perhaps if I hadn't known what it was to love, those reasons would have been enough for me to say yes... but how could those things compare to the man himself? I wanted to marry his mischievous smile, his grace on the back of a horse, the feeling of his hands on my waist as we danced, the way he worked so tirelessly for his people, his stubbornness and fierceness.

"You laugh at our sacrifice?" Her knuckles clenched at her sides. "You dare to laugh at a man without whom the war could never have been won? I..."

"Ah, there you are Lothíriel!" I hadn't heard Amrothos' steps on the stairs but he appeared suddenly at the end of the hall. "We were worried you had fallen into some sort of trap, ambushed by bandits or gotten lost! What could take so long about getting another bottle of wine? Hello, Lady Éowyn you are looking well as usual."

He took my arm firmly as he passed, nearly dragging me farther down the hall. "Excuse us please but we must hurry before our party becomes too sober: an intolerable fate at a party as dull as this."

But instead of going into the small dining room where the food was being served he took me to a small library that was just down the hall. A young man and woman sprang apart from an embrace at the sound of the door opening. "Get out," Amrothos ordered them flatly.

The man knocked into my arm in his haste to flee.

My brother led me to the center of the room and then finally let me go. He glared at me for a long moment, face twisted with a hatred I had never seen there before. "Come back to the party when you can manage to look like yourself," he said. "I don't want to see that pathetic, vulnerable look on your face ever again."

He slammed the door when he left the room.

For a moment I didn't move. I stood stock still in the center of the room, staring forward and seeing nothing, a small, strange spark of intuition kindling in my mind. The expression on Amrothos' face hadn't been exactly as it should have been. Disdain or glee would have been understandable. But he had looked as I might have when I had refused Éomer: agonized, not by his normal loathing for the external world, but by some edge of his rage that had turned against himself. He had looked almost remorseful.

And why had he come to rescue me from Éowyn? My brother was nothing if he wasn't meticulous. It wasn't in his nature to decide on one course of action—tearing me from Éomer –and then work against himself by saving me from the repercussions of it.

I went to the table and sat cradling my head in my hands with the heels of my palms pressed against my eyes. I let my mind wander back over everything that had happened since I had come back to Minas Tirith. What had I overlooked? What had I seen that I hadn't understood? The spark grew slowly but surely in my mind, throwing light on all that had passed since that morning in the stables and finally illuminating in my mind's eye a desperate plan.

I stood from the table and left the party at a swift walk. I needed to ask Lady Harra for help and my father for a favor.

TBC

As is her habit, Lady Bluejay did a fantastic job betaing this chapter. I continue to be surprised and gratified by how much she brings to each chapter. A huge thanks to all of you who reviewed the last chapter. I know not all of you got what you wanted (oh of all the times Lothi could pick to start doing what she is told!) but I suppose the drama has to get worse before it gets better. What sort of court intrigue would it be otherwise? Let me know what you thought anyway! I'm dying to know!