Though it seemed not to, time did pass and one morning we began to assemble our group for the journey to Edoras. When he left Rohan Amrothos had decided to travel with Erchirion and Lithoer to their new home. In theory he had gone to help them settle into their chosen home (a charming castle right on the shore of the Bay of Belfalas) but there had been no talk of when he might leave there. Without being told any specifics the family had known he might never return to Minas Tirith and, quietly, my father had sent most of his belongings on to him.

A week before we were due to leave Éowyn left the city to travel to Edoras, and Lithoer arrived from the south. Erchirion and Amrothos arrived only the night before we were to depart. Our trunks were packed and loaded into carts. I sent one final letter to Éomer. I didn't think it would reach him much before me but I was far too alive with an excited, nervous energy to sleep, despite the fact that I had stayed up quite late to have a glass of wine with my brothers.

The next morning we rode out before dawn. Though I hadn't slept much I was in a fine mood on the back of Nightwind, with Amrothos on one side and Erchirion and Lithoer on the other. Lithoer and I had been nearly inseparable since she had arrived but we had not quite exhausted ourselves of each other. I had kept her quite busy trotting her around to various gatherings and calling on numerous acquaintances. Since I would likely not be there myself the next time she visited Minas Tirith (and though she had passed by on her way to her new home, this was the first time she had spent appreciable time in her new capital city) I wanted her to have female friends to call upon. I had introduced her to all of the best women I knew of, and made it clear to the worst that I would do everything I could to make them miserable if they so much as breathed a spiteful word about her.

She had been an utter success, but it had not left us much time for her to tell me about her new life in Gondor, so as we rode she remedied that. She kept me laughing while she recounted some of her misadventures whilst learning to swim and steer a boat. "Erchirion thinks I will always do the wrong thing and run the little craft aground, but really it isn't as hard as he makes it out to be," she assured me with a pointed glance at her husband.

"You have run the boat aground twice so far darling wife! And though you are welcome to do it again, I only fear that one day you will do it so very well that I won't be able to push us back off."

Her Westron had much improved. It had always been good, but even in the few short months her accent had faded considerably and she was using some idioms that I remembered from my childhood in my father's princedom, but had long since fallen out of the habit of using.

"Erchirion was never a very strong sailor anyway from what I recall. It sounds like he's no better as a teacher. I should find another one if I were you," I advised her.

"No, I think not," my brother cut in quickly. "She is so busy these days setting up her keep and making scores of new friends and good impressions each day that I barely get to see her as it is. If she learns from another, I may well never see her again!"

I let out a huff of feigned disbelief. "Only a man would have the audacity to say such a thing! Do not pity him unless you choose to, Lithoer. If he cannot teach you to sail properly do not allow him to make you believe you owe him the chance to teach you at all."

She smiled, and rewarded him with a fond smile. "He shall do for now I think."

Amrothos spoke little of his time in Dol Amroth directly but I was surprised to find that he had enjoyed it. He spoke as condescendingly as he rightly could as a guest in Erchirion and Lithoer's home, but I knew him well enough to look past his words. He seemed awake for the first time since the night I had met Harra in the library. During our travels in Rohan he had seemed a man suspended. Even the violent act of sending the letters with Éomer he seemed to have done in a dream.

But now... now he seemed at least a shadow of his old self. He teased me and even Lithoer, though not unkindly. I was pleased to see that my new sister-in-law only laughed at him when he took to teasing her.

When I quizzed him on it one evening in his tent he had simply shrugged. "I read some. I swam some. You remember what people do in Dol Amroth. I didn't invent anything new."

"What did you enjoy most?"

"Peace from your incessant questioning."

"Lithoer told me that you showed her how to use an abacus and you're teaching her to read and do sums."

"She asked me to."

"And did you?"

He blew out an irritated breath of air. "Well I hardly had anything better to do, did I? There isn't exactly an overabundance of society floating around that castle!"

"I'm proud of you, Amrothos."

"That is excellent. I will thank you to find some silent way of expressing it."

We reached the Mering Stream on the afternoon of the fourth day of our journey. To my surprise from far off we could see the shape of tents, enough for a large camp, along the far edge of the stream. My heart beat hard against my chest when I saw that. I had expected to find Éomer at Edoras. Was it possible that he had come to meet me at his border instead? Erchirion looked at me quickly but seemed to know that I did not want my hope spoken aloud, lest it be disappointed. Lithoer too said nothing as we drew interminably closer.

When I saw a group of horses break away from the camp though, I knew he was among them. Only Éomer would be so presumptuous as to meet me—not to mention King Elessar and my father—on our own soil. By the time he rode into view, my cheeks already burned from smiling.

Never in my life would I grow used to seeing him after a long separation, but in those early days the effect was particularly striking because I didn't know to expect it. Though I knew how foolish I must look I found I couldn't take my eyes from him as he drew nearer. How had I forgotten how tall he was? How well he rode? To greet his guests he had dressed formally—a dark green vest over a black tunic embellished with the White Horse of Rohan and even his thin golden crown on his brow. His blond hair was a little longer than I remembered and shone like wheat. He had found me in the crowd by the time I drew near enough to see his face and the smile he gave me made my flesh prickle pleasantly

He greeted King Elessar and my father first, bowing to each in turn and welcoming them quite formally to his lands in a clear voice for the benefit of the whole group. All three then dismounted and he walked over to shake their hands and express his sentiments of welcome as a friend rather than king and dignitary. When the welcomes were finished and exchanged, Elessar and my father moved back to their horses but he walked into the throng of horses, cutting deftly straight for me. Heat rose in my cheeks and though I was overwhelmingly aware of the eyes of the entire party on the two of us, I could not bring myself to break gaze with him.

"Well met, Lady Lothíriel."

I offered him my hand and he kissed it as he had the morning that he had proposed to me that first time, turning it over quickly and dropping the kiss into my palm instead of the flat of the back.

"Well met, Éomer King."

He nodded once to Lithoer, Amrothos and Erchirion and then went back to his horse, leaving me feeling both empty and supremely heated, mortified with embarrassment and thoroughly pleased.

He rode with King Elessar and my father of course as we made our way to their camp at the stream. It was decided that we would take the opportunity to rest there for the night and so our tents were set up and water heated for us to refresh ourselves. Éomer had likewise prepared a feast in our honor, though I was not permitted to sit beside him. When we arrived in Edoras I would be treated as the presumptive queen but for the moment I was still only my father's daughter and the least important of his children. I sat where I always did in our party: the farthest to the edge and nearly half the length of the table from Éomer. For a while I kept trying to lean either far enough forward or backward in my chair to catch his eye but gave up once Amrothos fixed me with a pointed stair and asked if I was trying to make myself sea sick.

I waited for him to come to my tent that night. He had given me no reason to hope, but I made sure that my hair was plaited as prettily as possible and then I arranged my skirts becomingly on my bed and pretended to read my book. Just the night before I had found it quite engrossing, but now my eyes skimmed over the page with no real comprehension. The words seemed obscured by the pounding in my heart and the new, fresh images of him I had.

After an hour I gave up and went to put on my shoes.

It was a moment similar to the one in the garden when I had gone over the wall to walk through the lower city—a moment of stepping out into a darkness that had nothing to do with the poised, ladylike indifference in which I had spent so many years schooling myself. But unlike that other night, this time there was no hesitation. As soon as my shoes were on I pushed back my tent flap and walked out.

The camp was mostly asleep. There were still some men gathered around the fires but they were few (only the very drunkest remained now). It occurred to me suddenly to wonder if Éomer would be among them. He was, after all, no stranger to mead, I knew, and it was somewhat traditional for grooms to indulge some of their wilder impulses in the days preceding their nuptials.

I walked quickly through the camp but without going out of my way to avoid attention. Until the last moment there was no reason for anyone to suspect I wasn't walking to Amrothos' or Erchirion's tents and I knew how well the trick of unabashed brazenness could work in passing unremarked. I paused for only a moment outside of Éomer's tent, listening for voices, before quickly ducking in.

He was seated on his bed cleaning his sword but looked up immediately when I entered. The look of mingled shock and instantaneous desire evident in his features was exactly as pleasing as I hoped it would be. "Bema, Lothíriel you shouldn't…"

But he got no farther because I had crossed the room quickly and drawn his lips to mine. Both my hands tangled in his hair as I kissed him gently first and then with more passion. I had forgotten how incongruously soft his mouth was. For a man so used to shouting orders or blowing a battle horn how was it possible that his lips seemed only to find their true purpose in a kiss?

Not letting go of him, I sat down on the bed next to him as he quickly slid the sword to one side and leaned our foreheads together. My eyes closed, breathing in the smell of him and listening to the sound of his breath. "Valar but I've missed you," I murmured in a shuddering breathy voice I almost didn't recognize as my own.

He moved to get up but I held him steady. "Only let me wash my hands. I want to hold you properly."

"In a moment."

I kissed him twice more: soft, chaste little kisses that never became anything more but somehow conveyed the desperation I had felt in the past months. But mostly I just breathed against him and let the scent and feel and warmth of him permeate me as deeply as I could.

When I finally drew back I felt unexpectedly shy. I hadn't hesitated on my way to his tent but now that I was there and the impulse to kiss him—which had been consuming my thoughts most of the day—was at least partially satiated, it seemed ridiculous that I had come. I pressed one final kiss to his lips but then wouldn't meet his eyes. We hadn't been troth-plighted long and most of that time we'd spent apart. Now that I was his betrothed perhaps he would evaluate me a little more sternly? Would he find me less beautiful than he remembered? Would he think me foolish and wanton to have come?

He stood and carefully arranged the sword in its scabbard before moving to a small basin and carefully washing the grit off his hands. He carefully rolled his sleeves up as well, folding the cloth back so only bright, untainted cloth was exposed. But he stood back, hesitating, to my dismay. I toyed with my skirt nervously.

"You're displeased that I came?" I hadn't meant it to be a question, nor to allow my voice to be so apparently vulnerable.

"Hardly. Though I had hoped to spend a little more time with you in public before we saw each other alone again. For all your intelligence, Lothíriel I am convinced you have no idea of the effect you have on me. Being allowed to kiss you takes some getting used to."That brought my head up and the naked, open hunger in his expression brought a coy little grin to my lips. He groaned. "No need to look so pleased. My blood doesn't know whether to run cold or boil when you smile like that."

"Is it not meant to be me who is getting used to kissing you? Given that you have so much more experience with such matters."

"In the case of most maids I'm sure it would be, but you seem to have taken to it quite naturally." He cocked one eyebrow and pressed his lips together as if trying not to laugh. "I suppose it isn't the first time that I've thought I should have paid more attention to what Gænwyn was trying to tell me about you."

"I'm sure I haven't the least idea to what you are referring," I said, idly tapping a single tooth with a fingernail.

"I am sure you haven't, tenderest flower of innocence that you are. I only meant that when you came in I was unsure if you were real or still part of my imagination. You can't know how many times I've thought about you coming in just as you did to kiss me these past months...this past year really. You still don't seem quite like something I'm allowed to have."

I looked back down so he wouldn't see my face contort in pain. I knew exactly how he felt. My time in Minas Tirith and Dol Amroth had seemed to pass almost in a dream, with elements of my fantasies about Éomer so present and unrelenting that they almost seemed like memories instead of fancies. I had dreamed of him often enough, usually waking sweaty and frustrated, and daydreamed of him almost constantly. It was my fault too that he felt so unsure of me. He had at least been constant and clear in his feelings for me. "You know you can have me, Éomer. Anytime you want."

"For now, little viper I just want to hold you."

He opened his arms and I went and allowed myself to be folded into his embrace. I placed my head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat, letting my cheek soak up his warmth and breathing in deeply the smell of him, that strange mixture of pine trees, horses and leather that somehow reminded me of both home and adventure at once. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head and we stood there for another moment in silence. "Bema but you smell nice. Like vanilla and tea and parchment."

"Can't we go and sit back on the bed?"

"No, we cannot! A better man would have sent you home to your tent when you arrived, but I am not so low as to sit with you on my bed."

I pulled back so I could show him my look of displeasure and scorn. "Éomer, I hardly think that after that trip out to the heath sitting together on a bed..."

"That trip out to the heath was a liberty I never should have taken with you in the first place. And certainly not something that we will be repeating in a camp so full of Gondorian nobles, among whom number your father and king." He laughed. "At that time I believe I was still laboring under the assumption that at some point your Gondorian upbringing would assert itself and you would tell me that I had gone too far. Since then I have learned to be slightly more distrustful of the prudish morals that I was told should have been instilled in you. I have been thoroughly disillusioned since."

"If there is disillusionment to be had, I assure you it's a shared burden. I was always told that if I ever dared provoke a man with even the smallest fraction of the temptation I've given you he would surely ravish me without a second thought and despite my protestations. "

Provokingly, he roared with laughter at that. "Are you disappointed that I haven't yet ravished you, little viper?" he asked when my glaring finally sobered him.

I tossed my hair. "Supremely disappointed in my education at least. My tutors always assured me that men, sufficiently aroused, are like beasts and cannot be held responsible for their actions."

At that he frowned deeply. "You tutors were fools then. Men who believe they cannot be held responsible for what they do in a fit of passion are beasts, Lothíriel and should be treated as such. Surely you don't think me capable of..."

I shook my head, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. "You would never hurt me. No matter what provocation I gave you."

"No sooner than I could cut off my own sword hand. You are mine, little viper and I intend to keep you close. Never doubt that I should very much like to, as you so poetically put it, 'ravish' you. No man could ever desire a woman more than I desire you but that desire is not my master and never shall be."

He allowed me to play with a single flaxen strand of his hair that hung down over his shoulder. "I do not mean to tempt you so cruelly," I said softly, unable to meet his eyes. "You're right of course that it is madness for me to have come. To risk a scandal now, even a minor one, is so foolish. And yet I found that I had to come... I missed you, Éomer, while we were apart. I am sorry to be so wretchedly provoking, but I had to see you."

He laughed. "You are not provoking, my love. Or rather you are, very much so, but I am very glad you came. I only must make it through the next five days without allowing myself to dishonor you unduly. Once we are married I assure you that you will need to give me little enough provocation."

Though it was madness Éomer insisted on accompanying me back to my tent and in a fit of equal rashness, I gave him one last kiss before slipping inside. I lay in my bed for a long time before I dropped off to sleep, one hand resting gently on my lips.

It took us two days riding to reach Edoras and though by custom we were separated during the riding and at mealtimes we did manage to see each other some. On the morning of the second day we went down to the nearby stream to take our breakfast together. Once the bread and cheese were gone we talked for a while. I sat on a fallen log and he leaned against a tree: a rare moment of indulgent inactivity on a long ride.

I made light of my time in Minas Tirith, skating over the unpleasantness of my stay there and he told me a little bit of what he had been doing in my absence. I wanted to talk to him about Éowyn, to ask what account she'd given of my behavior during our absence, but I knew better. Painful though it was, I would need to build my relationship with my sister-in-law on my own. Talking to one sibling about the other would do more harm than good in the long term.

"I hope you will not feel insulted but I have asked Gænwyn to come to stay with us at Meduseld for a few months and help you settle into your position as its mistress."

I almost laughed at that. "I would have assumed she would come, asked or not!"

Now it was his turn to laugh. "She did seem rather affronted that there was a question that she would not. I think her exact words were 'and who else did you think would teach her to be a proper wife and queen to you, Éomer son of Éomund?'"

"You were lucky to escape without a rap on the knuckles for cheek I should say."

"Being king does sometimes have the occasional benefit."

"I shall be glad of her help of course," I mused. "I should like to try to be a proper wife to you and mistress of your hall."

"Well, I am glad to hear that two days before we are to wed."

I ignored him. "And should I fail at that, I find Gænwyn to be a very companionable drinking partner and that I have to do just as well as her."

"It is very wise to have a contingency plan to fall back upon... Though I think somehow you will not need yours."

"Gænwyn has never failed yet at as my teacher."

"Nor you as her pupil. Even a teacher such as Gænwyn must have a willing and capable student. Your intelligence does you as much credit as her."

"Oh come now. Those kinds of compliments may have been acceptable when we were courting, Éomer but now that we are to be married you really must stop. People will suspect you of either being a fool or having a dalliance if you moon over your own wife like that."

"Someday, Lothíriel you will come to see yourself as I do and you may be angry when you find that all my remarks you counted as compliments were merely the truth. Until that day however I am perfectly happy for you to think me a love-struck fool."

"You sound like Winweld when you prattle on like that."

"And you sound like just the querulous maid I fell in love with."

We were met at the city gates of Edoras by what I estimated to be every single person who could possibly be spared from work, all garlanded in their finest clothing. We were cheered from the moment we drew within earshot of the walls to the steps of Meduseld. I had never been cheered before and found the sound and sensation unexpectedly overwhelming. It seemed to fill my ears like the roar of the sea, making me feel like I was underwater. Lithoer touched my arm and smiled, saying something to me, but I found I couldn't hear her. I just smiled back, feeling unexpectedly disorientated. I had been in screaming crowds before of course but somehow it was very much different when they were screaming for me.

At the top of the steps Gænwyn and Éowyn were waiting for us. Éowyn holding the welcome cup and Gænwyn the jug of mead. As I mounted the steps Gænwyn beamed down at me and only the solemnity of the occasion prevented her from embracing me as I passed her by to be given my ceremonial welcome from Éowyn.

Then of course King Elessar and Éomer addressed the crowd and finally we were allowed to enter the hall. As soon as the doors shut behind us Gænwyn swooped me up in a hug, almost spilling the jug down my dress. "Westuhál, Lothíriel! Oh, Bema be blessed you're back for good!"

"Westuhál, Gænwyn I'm very happy to see you!"

She looked me up and down for a moment but reserved judgment until she had shown me to my rooms and we were alone (I was far too skinny and pale and positively wilting without Éomer, though he was sure to cheer me back up directly).

My greeting from Éowyn was, of course, markedly less enthusiastic. She embraced me in my turn and told me where my rooms were, as she did with all the guests, but the distance between us was unchanged and even more exquisitely painful for Éomer's having witnessed it. She let Gænwyn be the one to help me organize my trunks to be brought in.

I would sleep in a temporary room that night with only what I deemed necessary. Most of my clothes and belongings would be moved into the Queen's chambers, which I would inhabit the next night and I watched them go with a certain feeling of resentment. It seemed unfair that they should get to spend the night in their new homes when I could not.

My temporary quarters were fine however and a hot bath was waiting for me when I arrived. I sank into it gratefully but found myself unexpectedly disheartened. The fatigue of the ride, and the reserve Éowyn had shown me had left me feeling deflated. There would of course be a welcome feast, I would even be permitted to finally sit next to Éomer, but I found, as I sat in my bath, I would have rather simply stayed in my rooms.

I had not considered that Meduseld was still more Éowyn's than mine and how different it might feel when she was home. I trailed my fingers in the bath and flicked the surface of the water halfheartedly. I drew my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. She had given me no overt slight of course—her hospitality had been very correct—but her feelings toward me, uncomfortable as they had been in Minas Tirith, now felt even more oppressive.

I was grateful that she had consented to call me sister, that she was making an effort to love me for Éomer's sake. And yet... it was that Éowyn was his only family. His mother and father, aunt uncle and cousin had all perished: an entire family dwindled down to a brother and sister. I knew something of what that felt like. Though our family had been still living, Amrothos and I had, for a period of years, felt like lone survivors. I didn't fear that she would change Éomer's mind—he was far too independent for that—but I could imagine how painful his sister's tacit disapproval must be for him. I didn't want to be the source of discord between the two of them.

Gænwyn came to brush out and help me style my hair herself when I had finished bathing. She approved of the small pearled comb and matching pins I had selected but frowned when she saw the dress I had chosen. It was a light blue, the color of my father's house, but cut in the style popular in Rohan, with a simpler, slimmer skirt. "You should wear something in the Gondorian style tonight," she remarked, going to my closet to look.

"I don't mind that style," I reminded her. "After all, I wore it for months the last time I was here."

"People have come from all corners of the Riddermark to see the new Gondorian princess. They are very proud that you're a lady from Minas Tirith and they're expecting you to look the part. They don't want to see a style of dress that their own local nobles wear every Yule."

"You don't think I will look too... vain?"

I was thinking of how uncomfortable I had felt several times in my Gondorian clothes, which tended toward lace, beads, silk and bright colors more easily than was common in Rohan.

She gave a pointed look at my closet: only a fraction of my clothes and it was almost bursting from the wardrobe. "Oh Lothi, I'm afraid to say that the time to worry about vanity may have already passed you by. There is no use trying to be the queen you were not meant to be. Besides, you are our queen now and dressing well does us credit as well as you."

I laughed, though I didn't feel much like it. It was such an odd proposition, trying to woo an entire nation. My appearance and reputation had been so established (and of such little note) in Minas Tirith that I had never needed to take such considerations into account. I had worn what I wanted to and never thought twice about the message it sent. But a queen would need to be more strategical. I chewed on my lip for a long moment and then finally shrugged. There would be other times to show my appreciation of local styles. "One of the thousands I have in the green of Rohan then. I want to show willingness to shamelessly pander to my new countrymen after all."

"Clever girl."

TBC

Drop me a line to let me know what you think! Seriously reviews make me so happy (and they also help move the story along... hint hint)! And if you haven't already you should definitely check out Lady Bluejay's excellent story Thunder & Lightening. She did an excellent job betaing this chapter (as always) and she is an excellent writer as well!