The day of my wedding dawned as fine as could be wanted. And I should know. I woke before there was even a hint of dawn outside my window and lay in the dark. Knowing somehow that a return to the shores of sleep was impossible, I clasped my hands behind my head and stared out into the darkness. I thought unexpectedly about my mother. She had died of a sudden fever when I was a very small child and I didn't remember her at all. I had seen her face in portraits and my father and brothers had spoken of her often to me of course. But she had seemed something of a myth, like an elven princess. I thought of her only in moments like this, times when she would have played a large role in my life.

If she had not died she would have certainly been the face I would have seen that morning: the first through the door to wake me on my wedding day. I tried to imagine her waking up in some room nearby, feeling the same excited foreboding that I was. By all accounts she had been a kind woman; she might have come late to let me sleep in. I would have stayed in bed to wait for her, I decided. That seemed something that a daughter might do for her mother. Allow her to wake her child up one last morning before she was no longer a child.

Instead it was Gænwyn who came to wake me. She smiled when she saw I was already awake. "You may live to regret not sleeping more soundly tonight."

I shrugged, throwing back the covers. "So I may."

She waited while I bathed behind a screen and Eadgyth washed my hair with a special perfumed soap from Dol Amrothos. Afterward we had scones and butter with jam and even some hot, fresh coffee I had brought from Minas Tirith as we waited for my hair to dry by the fire. Lithoer and Éowyn came to join us for our breakfast which quickly turned into a boisterous, noisy affair. I was full of a simmering, giddy nervousness that made me too distracted to carry on a proper conversation but Gænwyn and Lithoer were full of an explosive kind of joy. Even Éowyn seemed to have been swept up in the mood.

This made it all the more shocking when Gænwyn, in a firm, serious voice, announced, as I took my last bite of scone, "Now it is time for us to answer any questions you might have about your wedding night."

I almost choked and only with some difficulty managed to swallow down my bit of scone. "What? No that's quite unnecessary Gænwyn! I assure you that I don't..." I glanced at Lithoer and Éowyn for aid. Surely Gænwyn didn't think that...

"When a lord and a lady lie down together they must come together as stallions and mares do in the spring to produce a baby. The lord, when he kisses the lady, becomes..."

"Gænwyn! I am familiar with the mechanics of the physical act of..."

"When he kisses the lady he becomes amorous and the masculine portion of his anatomy, which is normally flaccid and limp becomes more firm."

I put my hands over my face. "For the love of Valar..."

She pulled down my hands gently but firmly. "Don't be a silly young chit. There is nothing to be embarrassed by. Tonight you are going to become a woman and you have the right to know what to expect. My mother did not allow me to go to my bridal bed ignorant of what would happen to me and I will do the same for you. It would be better if you had sisters or a mother to tell you these things but I will not have you neglected."

I almost sighed. How was it that, of the two of us, it was me who had the reputation for manipulation? How was it even possible? Gænwyn was the first person since Amrothos who had seen in me something worth cherishing. She had nurtured and protected me even when I hadn't felt worthy of such care. It was a dastardly trick to so blithely use the word "mother" between us and she knew it.

I let her smooth my hands down into my lap. "I am very happy to listen to you, Gænwyn. I wouldn't prefer anyone else to tell me what I must be told."

Though I would prefer not to be told at all, I added silently, mentally setting my teeth and expression against any further visible mortification.

She smiled. "So when a man becomes amorous, and sometimes this requires a little more than just kissing and often quite a bit less, his masculine portions become firm. This allows him to insert himself into the corresponding feminine portions of the lady's anatomy. You have seen the stallions covering the mares of course. Once he is inside there is a natural tendency for him to slide in and out. This can be quite pleasurable for both parties."

"It should be pleasurable too." Lithoer added, blushing a little bit. "It hurts only a little bit at first if he's gentle and then it... it feels quite nice. I was quite scared it would hurt but it didn't that much in the end... and there wasn't that much blood either."

"Yes and do not be afraid if there is a moment wherein the pleasure, "comes to a boil" as it were and then subsides. This is quite natural for both women and men. When he reaches his boiling point his masculine parts will release his seed inside of you and then become flaccid again."

The Haradrim poetry I had read on the subject euphemistically referred to this as the moment of crisis or even "the small death" in some cases, but it was strange to hear it spoken aloud, particularly in Gænwyn's normal, direct speech.

As we finished the scones I was told a great many indecorous things about the relations between men and women. As my horror gave way some my natural curiosity returned. By the time the other ladies returned from their breakfasts I felt almost put-upon that I had to cease my questions.

The remainder of the morning of course was dedicated to making me as beautiful as possible. I was scrubbed, pinched, powdered and filed form head to toe. The rest of the bridal party returned to lend a hand. Lotion and perfume was worked into every surface that would accept it and my hair was brushed to a high sheen before being styled into an elaborate braided cap.

"That will hold the crown quite nicely," the cousin of Lithoer's who had volunteered to style my hair remarked when she was finished and I went cold with sudden realization. It was odd but, though I had known it would happen, the idea that Éomer would later be putting a crown on my head had completely slipped out of my mind. It was one thing to know that I would be Queen of Rohan—which seemed like a concept too large to grasp—but imagining the moment of my coronation was sobering.

By the noonday meal I was mostly ready and the feast had already started in the main hall so the women bid me farewell and went down to take their places at table. It would be hours before I would join them again: a litany of speeches and customs would precede the appearance of the bride. Once again, though I had been told what to expect, I found the reality of it indescribably queer. I sat in my elaborate hair arrangement and underthings (my dress was still in my closet so as to prevent the catastrophe of wrinkles) alone in my rooms, quivering with anticipation and unable to do anything. I tried to read and quickly realized it was useless. I paced some and looked out the widow but I couldn't settle. At any minute a maid could come to fetch me down to the feast.

Some food was brought up for me—cold chicken, bread, cheese and fruit with tea—but I only picked at it.

When the second knock came at my door I almost jumped out of my chair. "Come in."

The door swung open and Amrothos stepped in. "Oh Valar, Lothi! You aren't descent!" His hand flew up to cover his eyes.

I scrambled to the dresser and pulled out a robe, throwing it over my underthings. "Well I was hardly expecting you now, was I? I thought you were the damned maid!"

"Even if I were what a fine picture you make! Sitting around in your underthings and now swearing on your wedding day? Is this the expected behavior for the Queen of Rohan?"

"Since I am not Queen yet I shall let you know when I find out. Now what are you doing here?"

"The feast was getting oppressively dull. The rare speech in a language I can understand is all about honor and respect and forging new bonds between two great nations. Mostly though it's just savage babbling. And the food is uninspired as well. The lamb was fine but the fish sauce was far too heavy."

I stared at him in disbelief. "So you thought you would just stop by to say hello? On the afternoon of my wedding?"

"You never know. You could have changed your mind about going through with this farce. You might have needed someone to go round you up the fastest available horse." I frowned and opened my mouth to tell him where he could shove his fastest horse but he raised his arms. "Peace, peace, Lothíriel I only came to offer you company."

I shut my mouth. I was glad to see him. "Why don't you sit down in that case."

We seated ourselves at my table. Amrothos sat with his legs sprawled out in front of him lazily. I sat up a little straighter, afraid of getting even my underthings the least bit dirty. "Did Éomer ever mention to you that he had written me a letter once you had returned to Minas Tirith and the wedding date was fixed?"

My head shot up. "No, he never mentioned that."

"It was the most incomprehensible letter I had ever received. He wrote to specifically ask the favor that I attend your wedding. He said that he would consider it an honor and a personal favor." Amrothos smiled wistfully. "Of course he knew that I would be obliged to attend, willing or not, by our father. Writing to ask me himself was a ridiculous waste of paper and ink. I admit I was puzzled for almost a week before I could bring myself to comprehend what he could mean by it."

"Well, what was his aim?"

"Ahhh but you already know the answer to that question, don't you?"

"He did it because he loves me."

"That was my conclusion as well. It cannot have been easy letter for such a proud man to have written."

"No, it would have cost him quite a bit."

Amrothos reached out for my hands, which I gave him. He placed a single kiss on the back of both—a rare gesture of physical affection from him— and then squeezed them tight. My face suddenly felt hot and it was difficult to speak. Hot tears pricked my eyes though I wiped them away quickly. "I love you Amrothos."

"Don't cry. You don't do it prettily, not even your new husband would say so."

"I love you, Amrothos."

"Yes of course you do...And I have always loved you, Lothíriel and will continue to do so until the day that you die."

I let in the maid and Amrothos slipped out quietly to rejoin the feast. As I watched him go I felt suddenly a sense of calm come over me that was wholly unexpected. If that has gone well, nothing can go wrong today, I thought to myself.

My dress was fetched out and given one last brush to get out any wrinkles. It was the dark rich blue color of my house, made of the most luxuriant silk. It had few embellishments save for a sparing line of pearls around the collar and each cuff. The bodice and skirt were both conservatively cut but very pleasing, making my legs and neck look very long. Once it was on I regarded myself in the mirror and smoothed it down once but I found that the effect of the dress escaped me. I had none of my usual conception and concern for how I looked. Whatever internal device I used to measure my own reflection seemed temporarily vanished. I turned to Eadgyth to ask how I looked but her look of open admiration answered my question. It can't be so bad in that case, I decided.

We walked together in perfect silence down and out of the hall and then back up to the steps of the main entrance of the Meduseld. The doors were closed and everyone was already inside. Eadgyth straightened my skirt nervously and without thinking I said, "It's going to be okay" even as I realized how ridiculous it was for me to be reassuring her.

When the doors were finally thrown open I had expected an explosion of sound but the silence that reigned instead was almost louder, certainly more terrifying. The hall was full of people. The space at every table was filled with bodies and all of them turned to look at me in solemn reverence. It was an eerie and overwhelming scene that made me nearly flinch back from it.

But then my eyes found their way up the center aisle to where Éomer stood, waiting for me at the high dais. He was dressed in fine black pants and shirt with the White Horse of Rohan on his tunic. Except for his crown he looked just as he always did on more formal occasions: freshly scrubbed and in his finest but unchanged by it. He was still himself, still defined entirely by the air of command that he radiated from every pore and the kindness apparent on his mouth. Our eyes met and his expression, which had been somber and formal, changed into that special smile I never saw him give to anyone else: a little, mischievous quirk of his lips that seemed to say I know your game, little viper, I dare you to let me play it with you. I started walking immediately.

The details of the ceremony were, and remain, a blur to me. Our hands were bound together with a small piece of ribbon and we exchanged sips out of a mead cup. A murmur went through the crowd as I drank from the cup that I would later realize signaled the crowd's acknowledgment that we were married. It was a few moments later (or perhaps longer as I remember him speaking something) when I knelt and he placed the crown on my head that the room erupted in cheers.

The sound after the silence was deafening. I almost started as it reached me but managed to rise without an embarrassing wobble. I turned and smiled out at the crowd, my subjects now, and my heart hammered in my chest. Speeches were made that I barely listened to and then it was time for food that I would barely touch. I was however grateful to sit down. "How are we supposed to get this ribbon off anyway?" I whispered to him as we took our places at the highest seats of honor, hands still bound together.

"I suppose it must be bad luck to cut it."

"As a symbolic act it is not too promising, no. Here if you hold that end with your free hand I think I can work out the knot."

Wine was brought and I reminded myself not to gulp down my glass immediately. I had barely eaten all day and it would hardly be proper to become drunk at my own wedding. The crown felt odd on my head and I reached up and touched it gingerly once. I still had the crown I bore as Princess of Dol Amroth but it had been a light, delicate thing compared to this. This was a thick band of plain but well-wrought gold that had a real heft and weight about it.

We ate, though neither of us ate much. We talked some too, though not much. It was damned uncomfortable sitting at the high table. With so many eyes on us every sip of wine was remarked on, every whispered word was noticed. It had the air of performance, though not the type at which I had any skill. As Princess of Dol Amroth I had always been one of many at the high table. My rank was high but never the highest. Any ceremonial role I had been called upon to do would involve a dozen maidens at least and I had never been the center of so much focused attention. Éomer was much more at ease than I was but his attempts to draw me out a bit were met with limited success.

"I can order something stronger brought if you'd like," he remarked when he noticed my hand was shaking as I reached for my wine. "Or at least something more the color of the table cloth," he added as I almost spilled it.

"What? No the wine is fine."

"Just let me know if you want anything else."

Too soon our guests had finished their food and the level of noise in the room began to build. People began to stand and come to line the center aisle, preparing our gauntlet. Éomer turned to me, the question evident on his face. I swallowed hard and tried not to keep my building horror from showing. Though I was not exactly shy, the public attention, bordering on public humiliation of what was to come next was going to mortify me. "If we go now it won't be so bad. The longer we wait the worse it will be."

I tossed my head defiantly but despite my best efforts my voice shook a little. "Show a little courage, Éomer, you'll spoil the sport if we go before they're properly ready for us."

He laughed heartily at that but took my hand under the table and it steadied slightly, though it didn't stop shaking entirely.

When most of the guests were on their feet we rose and walked slowly to the end of the dais. We hesitated for a moment as the assembled guests cheered loudly and then when they quieted down Éomer began to speak, interrupted periodically with overwhelming applause.

"Today is a great day. Today we welcome a new Queen to our hall. She represents her home country of Gondor and will be a great link between our newly allied nations. Through her our peace will be the peace of relations as well as friends. We will be family, brothers, with our allies of the south and bound closer than any friendship.

"She also represents herself and for that I am equally proud to call her my wife. She has already lived in Rohan for more than a year and has come to love and understand its customs and its people. I know that she will be a great and loving Queen to her new country and mother to all of her subjects. I hope someday you will come to love her as much as I already do. I invite her now to speak on her own behalf as she chooses."

Gænwyn had helped me memorize a short speech but nothing could have prepared me to deliver it. I stepped forward, feeling strangely alone. I was surrounded by people but never had I felt more isolated. My voice, when it came, sounded weird and strained though I knew somehow that it was the right pitch and volume. "The Rohirrim have told me that when two horses meet they know if they are kin at once. That is how I felt when I arrived in your great land and met you: that I was meeting my kin that I had never seen before. People of Rohan, today I am proud to say that I have become one of you. I have lived in this great country for the past year but now I have become a part of it. Being your Queen will be the highest honor of my life."

In the roar of approval that followed Éomer's hand found mine and squeezed tight. Somehow, even though the riot of noise, his voice seemed clear. "Time to run."

We didn't make it as far as our first step before a profusion of wheat and flowers rained down. Éomer went first and took the brunt of it but soon I found that it wasn't as bad as I had anticipated. Some of the wheat stuck to my clothes and it was difficult to see where we were going between Éomer's back obscuring my vision and the confusion of flowers but I found that quite suddenly, I was laughing very hard. My pace slowed and Éomer had to slow his pace as my stride shortened from the lack of breath.

When we reached the door, instead of being let out to make our escape, the crowd converged on us. Gænwyn, Lithoer and the girls from the morning had been waiting on me and then swarmed around me, pulling me away from Éomer and bundling me back down the aisle even as a party of men converged on my new husband. He grabbed at my wrist once, for the look of the thing, but didn't hold so tight as to hurt me as we were gleefully pulled apart.

The musicians struck up a lively tune and I could see even before we had reached the back of the hall again and been pushed through the doors, tables being pushed back and dancing beginning. My ladies and I lingered at the back of the hall for a moment to flirt with the crowd. The men shouted rather lewd but complimentary things about the looks and charms of the girls and got as good as they gave. A few young women had even tied the flower ribbons in their hair and danced an impromptu jig with some of the riders. I was thrust out into the dance as well, Gænwyn on my arm. Grain was showered down on me and the ribbons successfully won were tossed at me as well, tokens of good luck. I was so out of breath from the exertion and the laughter, so disoriented by the strangeness and the clamor that I didn't see Éomer until he had swept me up in his arms.

A great hew and shout went up as he embraced me briefly, calls were made to pull us back apart, but he took his time. He brushed back my hair gently and his grin was mischievous and heart-stopping. "Westu hal, Lothíriel."

"Westu hal, Éomer."

The kiss he gave me was too much. One strong arm went around my waist and pulled me flush against his broad chest. The other knitted in my hair and tilted my head back. His lips descended on mine and he kissed me deeply. The shout that went up from the crowd was deafening, unrestrained. I was blushing scarlet by the time he released me, from the embarrassment and from the usual rush of heat when he kissed me. He started to laugh and brought up his hand to caress my cheek but we were ripped apart again by the crowd and I was bundled back through the door by the women.

Out of sight of the dance and the men the women wasted no time. We had no idea how long the men would dally in the hall and there was work to be done. I was nearly dragged as we ran full out down the unfamiliar halls and up stairs. They were all laughing, all in high good spirits and the effect was like a torrent of mead rushing down the hall—overflowing and uncontainable. Finally we arrived at Éomer's chambers and burst in. My dress was dragged over my head, almost knocking my new crown straight to the floor had I not managed to catch it in the rush of fabric. I was likewise divested of my small clothes as many unknown hands began to pull at the elaborate hairstyle. "Not so rough you silly chits! We don't want the queen to be bald on her wedding night!" Gænwyn's voice seemed to cut through the haze of noise and confusion that seemed to have settled over my senses the moment we had begun to run down the aisle.

The mayhem began to recede slightly and sense and reason began to return as Lithoer brought over my bridal nightclothes and someone took a brush to my hair. My beautiful nightgown was pale pink: all lace and silk and embroidered with pearls from the Bay of Belfalas. Over that went my new dark green robe with Rohan's white horse embroidered in fine detail on the back. As they brushed my hair the ladies became a little quieter. It was a sensation I remembered from being a handmaiden myself. The women in the room had a wide range of emotions for me—from deep affection to perhaps abject jealousy—but now I was on the verge of a great change. I was about to become a woman and more than that I was about to become their queen. Even in the rush of silliness there was some solemnity as well.

Gænwyn herself tied the last fastener just over my breasts and placed the crown on my head. She smoothed down my hair over my ears and placed a kiss on my forehead. "We're taking our leave now, Lothíriel unless you need anything else."

"No, Gænwyn. I will see you tomorrow morning."

She nodded. "I wish your mother were here."

"I love you, Gænwyn."

She looked surprised. "Of course you do. I love you too."

I heard them start to laugh and dance again as the door closed and they moved off down the hall. For a moment I was almost envious of the good time they would be having that night without me. Feeling strange and utterly out of place I went and got into the unfamiliar bed. I pulled back the thick furs, the heavy woolen blanket and even the luxuriant cotton sheet and slid in. The bed smelled of Éomer and I lay back on the pillow wishing he were already there with me. Though I could hear the feast below I felt suddenly panicked, as if I were the only person left in the world. I shut my eyes tight against the unexpected loneliness.

Sooner than I expected I heard noises down the hall: louder and rowdier even than my own band had been. The shouting and singing was all in a lower, more masculine register and it seemed twice as loud as the party that left had been. Into the room they burst, pushing Éomer in front of them. Half of them seemed to be shouting that I should run while I still could and that I was far too fair for the likes of him. The other half was encouraging him to "act as a stallion should" and "do what the good blood told him to." Two of his riders pulled back the covers and he was launched into the bed with a mighty heave. The blanket was thrown over us and the marriage was officially consummated. We lay there for a moment as our guests enjoyed one last jape, one last bang on their pans and even one last handful of wheat before they exited through the door they had come through.

When the door banged shut behind the last one I glanced at Éomer and immediately burst into laughter. He was covered in wheat stalks and flowers and one particularly hilariously placed bud had caught in his crown was flopping down into his eyes. In the volatile, high spirits of the room the laughter was like a match to a keg and it was a while before either of us calmed down properly.

I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand and sat up in bed, pushing down the bedclothes. "You look absolutely ridiculous with those flowers in your hair. Come here and let me take them out for you."

When I was done he took my chin in his fingers and looked down at me. Kneeling and facing each other he was quite a bit taller than I was and, wholly unexpectedly, I felt suddenly, intensely nervous.

It had been one thing to kiss him on the heath or in his tent and declare that I wanted him. It was as his wife that the anxiety of performance struck. Before it had been all too easy to get swept away. Making love to Éomer as Lothíriel had been easy. Now that the official moment had come—with a ceremony, a dress and a crown—I felt somewhat shy. For all my intelligence and all the scandalous poetry I had read, for all the love and desire I bore Éomer, I was a maid and he was no innocent. My lack of experience felt like a vulnerability, as did the fact that while he was still fully clothed, I was in my nightclothes. One small tug on my robe and he would see more of me than any man ever had. I wished I hadn't been so eager to scoff off advice that morning.

Though I fought not to let it show he must have seen something of my hesitation. His hand dropped from my chin and he stood up from the bed. "Come let's have a glass of wine."

He went to a jug on a table and poured two glasses. I joined him, and accepted one gratefully. I noticed that there were a variety of refreshments laid out for us for what was assumed to be a long and active night. I blushed a little looking at them and cursed myself for a fool. How was it possible that I could be so utterly without shame when he kissed me and yet the sight of the meal laid out made me act like the most innocent, simpering virgin?

From across the table my new husband regarded me with a thoughtful expression. "I hope you won't take this the wrong way, Lothíriel but I am awfully glad that our wedding is over."

"Oh?"

"All day I've been worried that something will spook you and you'll bolt."

"I would never..."

"I know you wouldn't. But it is a lot to ask even if you do love me. You're becoming Queen of a land that is not your own. You're coming out of the shadow of your father and becoming a ambassador for Gondor in Rohan all in one day." He took a large sip of wine. "Sometimes I forget how young you are too. You're so strong and fearless in your own way that it is too easy to think of you as invulnerable."

"Come now, Éomer. Perhaps those kinds of compliments were appropriate when we were courting but now that we're an old married couple you really must stop. People will think you are simple or having a dalliance if you moon over your own wife like that."

He grinned. "Is that what you think passes for a romantic compliment? Invulnerability? I have chosen a wife well." But then his grin twisted back into something more serious. "I know what I'm talking about when I call a woman strong—Valar knows I've seen plenty of examples—and I do mean what I say."

I glanced around the room as I took my first sip, hoping to keep him from seeing the flush in my cheeks. The room was very much a reflection of Éomer. The bed, table and chairs were dark wood with the intricate, horse motif carving that populated so much of the decor in the Meduseld. A wooden rack by the wall held his armor, sword and saddle as well as some other weapons I had never seen him wield. The tapestries too were all of horses and warriors riding into battles I didn't recognize. And the smell of him permeated the room as well. It was not overwhelming but even if I had not been told I would have known the room was his and it was enough to make my heart beat slightly faster.

These were Éomer's chambers and always would be. If I so chose I could sleep most nights in the Queen's chambers, which would be close by or adjoined but would have their own bed and all the necessities I could want. Those would be my rooms to do with as I pleased, but this would always be Éomer's territory and something of a foreign land to me. In Gondor even very close and loving husbands and wives did not typically visit each other's chambers without some invitation.

I tried not to stare so blatantly but he noticed anyway. "Strong though you may be you do seem somewhat out of place in my rooms. I never knew how damnably masculine this room was until just now. With you standing in it it looks like an armory. I shall have to hang some new tapestries directly."

"Oh no! They are perfectly lovely and they suit you quite well! And of course they are yours to do with as you like after all." I insisted hurriedly. "They are entirely your own."

He smiled. "To be sure. However you look somewhat out of place between my mace and the battle tapestries and I am hoping to tempt you to spend a significant amount of time here."

I smiled. "Oh?"

He winked. "I told Gænwyn to put the knobbiest mattress she could find in the Queen's chambers."

"What a scandal. And to think that you are the honorable one of the pair of us."

"I confess that it is not the most lofty of my schemes but I shall learn to live with the black mark on my honor. And your maid will report on you if you ever try to chuck the dreadful thing out."

"And to think I once thought I needed to save you from court intrigue. But schemes and informants? You do know how to keep my interest."

"I should hope so."

For a long moment he simply regarded me as I struggled to return his gaze. It was not the hungry or predatory look he sometimes gave me when we were alone; he seemed to be considering what to do or say next very carefully. Finally he took off his crown and set on the table. "That always seems so much heavier than it has any right to be," he remarked, finger combing his hair out slightly. "Much more annoying than a helm, though you wouldn't think so looking at it."

I lifted mine off gingerly as well and passed it back and forth from hand to hand for a moment before setting it on the table too. I hadn't properly seen it before and I was surprised to note that it wasn't a simple solid gold band as I had thought but rather two medium sized ones that dipped slightly in the front and back where they connected but were otherwise unmarked by decoration. "I think I shall always prefer you in your crown. You are perhaps more handsome in a helm but whenever you put it on you ride right out of the gate and on your way to danger."

He came around the table and took me in his arms. "I may like my helm less now that I know that you will be waiting at my hearth when I return."

"Perhaps. But you will always ride off, Éomer. I think you will always be a warrior and I, fool that I am, will love even that about you that breaks my heart most."

His lips descended on mine and then there was very little talking after that.

TBC

Oh it makes me so sad the story is coming to a close. I've got one more good chapter to go I think but I'm getting a little nostalgic already. Thank you all so much for sticking with me even though the big gaps in my posting. And, as always, all praise be to Lady Bluejay who did a phenomenal job with this chapter (as with all previous chapters). She's an amazing editor and a talented writer (I'm going to plug Thunder & Lightening again if you need more Éomer and Lothiriel in your day!). Otherwise please drop me a review to let me know what you thought of the wedding! I love getting reviews, they keep me writing and so many of you are unspeakably thoughtful and kind in your messages and critiques.