I have to say a big thank you once again for so many wonderful reviews.

I'm quite overwhelmed by the response this story is getting, I don't think any of my other stories have gotten so much attention and praise, I hope that means my writing is improving lol

Please do keep telling me your thoughts, it does mean a lot to me to hear what you think.

I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

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The week of the great feast arrived and Éomer was happy to be greeting his close friend Faramir once again. The young Steward of Gondor brought news of Éomer's beloved sister and her child and through Faramir's presence Éomer began to brood less upon such problems as confinement and strange serving girls. The two men sat together in Eomer's chambers playing an ancient wooden game, whiling away the hours until the great feast would finally arrive and the eating and drinking could begin.

"Éowyn yearns to come and visit Edoras and you, her heart longs for her old home" Faramir said smiling. "As soon as Elboron is old enough to make the ride we shall come to you."

Éomer nodded, a smile playing upon his lips. "That would please me much brother." His eyes remained clouded though his meaning was true.

Faramir's brow furrowed, "Your spirits seem dark Éomer, what troubles you?"

"I am tired" Éomer stated, a little too sharply than he would have wished. His expression softened, not wanting to give any more fuel to Faramir's suspicious gaze, "I have become caged in this hall over the last few months, and now I am again well my duties keep me still inside."

Faramir nodded in understanding, "It is a heavy burden to be a king."

Éomer nodded. "One I was ill prepared for. I never thought I would see the death of my cousin Theodred, he would have made a fine king, Faramir."

"That may be true, but you shall also become a great king, do not think of yourself so lowly." He paused, "Already your people are re-building, their lands once again rich in crops… Your people's happiness stands in testament to your ruling."

Éomer glanced at him but said nothing, instead making a move of one the wooden pieces and winning the game.

"Anborn asked me to convey his good tidings to you" Faramir said, smiling and sitting back in his chair now the game was thoroughly over. Éomer nodded, not really paying the man before him much attention, his mind once more wandering to riding and being away from the stuffy hall.

Faramir seemed to hesitate, "He wanted to enquire about the serving girl he brought, how she fares?"

Éomer's eyes jerked to meet Faramir's gaze. "The serving girl?" he questioned, fully understanding his meaning.

"Yes, the one he found with the Orcs."

"She fares well, she does her duties." It was Éomer's turn to hesitate. "Tell me more of her, I confess I am curious to her past and your tale over ale last year seemed too tall to take in."

Faramir laughed, "It does seem too tall, I admit." He paused, "Anborn said he found her in a cave around a day's ride from the White City. She was a filthy, skinny creature, more thin than when she was first brought to your hall, he said it appeared the Orcs had tormented her, beaten her…" He paused, "Violated her."

Éomer's eyes again flew to Faramir's, a strange sickness welling within his stomach at the mere thought of a woman being touched by one of those foul creatures, a feeling he felt sure Faramir also experinced by the look of distaste upon his features. "One of my serving women has taught her some of the common tongue, she has learnt well." Éomer said more to fill the silence than to give the information. "It seems she has never known the world of men fully until now."

Faramir nodded, "A pitiful creature" he said with a sad nod. "How does she fare with people?"

"She avoids them if she can."

Faramir scratched his bearded chin. "I know that Anborn sent her here to be rid of her" he confided.

"Rid of her?" Éomer furrowed his brow, becoming annoyed that his old friend had declared something he did not want as a gift.

Faramir smiled weakly, "He told me he found her presence too tempting." He shook his head, "He must see something I cannot, I only see a skinny creature too timid for the normal ways of life." He paused; "Perhaps Anborn can see more deeply than most" he shrugged.

Éomer nodded but did not reply.

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The feast was immense and full of merrymaking. Many torches lined the walls, giving the great hall a dim but inviting atmosphere. The long wooden tables were pulled out and each seat was taken by a man or woman in the full throes of too much good food and good drink. A small band of musicians played traditional dancing tunes that had many upon their feet and tables, kicking their feet high as laughter echoed around the wooden beams. Fights broke out and were also soon broken up with the aid of guards and all seemed joyous in the Golden Hall.

Éomer sat with Faramir, a goblet of Mead in his hand, what number goblet it was had been long since forgotten. His vision blurred as the music became smooth, serpentine and swaying, the notes and vibrations filling his mind. His attention was caught as Faramir lowered his head down to the table with a low moan and a drunken smile upon his lips. Éomer couldn't help but laugh as Gamling who sat beside him nudged Faramir roughly to be met by groans of protest, Faramir never had been able to hold his drink.

Éomer's eyes drifted to the men and women at a nearby table dancing in a less than restrained way, he noticed on of thee men's hands snaked through folds of skirts, bodies pressing heatedly together. He smirked as he watched a moment, tonight was not for the nobles or stuffy old men but for friends, warriors and revelry, for getting past noticeably intoxicated. As his eyes returned to his drink he felt a warm arm drape around his shoulders and turned to see one of the many serving girls slyly smiling at him.

Gamling gave a low laugh and turned his attention further down the table as Éomer pulled the girl drunkenly down onto his lap, she gave an overly girlish giggle and buried her face into his neck, her lips sending small shivers of pleasure up his spine as he continued to partake in his Mead. Before long had passed, her hands were wandering down his chest, her caresses eager to please until they found the place between his legs, where she gently cupped his growing bulge. Éomer's hand containing his drink stopped in midair at the sensation and instinctively he glanced around the hall but the table hid all below his middle from view and no man or woman seemed in the least part interested in anything but their own jinks. He enjoyed her caress for a moment, his mind slowly pondering if he should perhaps take her to his bed this night. As this thought crossed his mind he noticed the small figure flitting from table to table, a flagon of ale held with effort within her arms. His eyes locked upon her, watching her cringe and shrink from the people about her, retreating to the shadows when anyone came too close to her, he became unaware of the serving girl sat in his lap, unfeeling of her touch as his mind focused upon Aedre's movements.

She again moved from the shadows and was beckoned to a rather raucous table where some of his warriors drank; she poured the flagon, dispensing the ale where it was wanted. Éomer watched, fixated, as a large, very drunk man swayed towards her. He saw Aedre's face register alarm and she tried to move her body out of the path of his hand, but the flagon was too heavy and her movements slowed by its weight. The man laughed heartily as his hand clasped her waist, pulling her to him. Eomer saw her mouth open but could not hear her shriek above the din of music and people. Before the man could reel her in and place her upon his lap Aedre's grasp on the flagon slipped in her panic and it toppled to the floor, spilling the contents across the ground. The noise surprised the man and for a moment his grip loosened, Aedre took her chance and nimbly moved out of his reach, her feet taking her quickly and quietly into the deep shadows of the hall as Éomer's gaze followed her.

He caught the girl's hand that still sat upon his lap, halting her amorous caresses and without speaking signaled for her to rise. She gave him a displeased look but quickly regained her composure and smiled sweetly at him before leaving to serve other tables. Éomer glanced to his side, Faramir was still, in sleep, he gave one last look to his surroundings before taking a swig of his Mead and leaving his seat, his strides taking him towards the shadows Aedre had concealed herself within. The light faded, cloaking him in shadowed folds and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the new gloom. He heard her before he saw her, soft whimpering sounds and then the dark outline of her form came into view. She was sat upon her haunches, gently rocking herself as sobs racked her small body. Perhaps it was too much drink that caused his heart to tug at the sight but he suddenly felt a great wave of pity, of sorrow for her and her ruined life and a wave of anger swept over him at how anything so callous could happen to anyone, let alone a frail girl.

Without thinking upon his actions he rushed forward and gathered her into his arms, pulling her close into a warm embrace. As their bodies pressed together he became aware of just how tiny and fragile she was, her frame so slight, so wasted, that he felt as if he could easily break her. The suddenness of his presence and the unexpectedness of his behaviour caught Aedre off guard and for a few seconds she stood enclosed by him and as the realization of what was happening took full hold upon her, her body stiffened, her eyes widened and her breath caught within her throat. Éomer felt the change within her and then she squirmed away, pulling herself from him. She stared at him a moment, her eyes fearful, trying to understand his actions as she absently wiped at her wet cheeks.

Éomer felt an unexplainable rage sweep through him, the drink and music clouding his mind, his brows knitted together and his eyes blazed before he lunged forward and grasped her wrist. Aedre stared at him in surprise and alarm before he gave her a rough tug and began to pull her after him, she struggled at the first few steps she was made to take but he was easily able to drag her without feeling her attempts of resistance. He pulled her out through one of the doors to the side of the hall and into a dark passageway that was deserted. The music had become faint, the laughs and cheers distant. He roughly jerked her forward so that her back connected harshly with the wall before pounding his hand into the wooden paneling a few inches away from her head.

Aedre squeaked, her eyes widening, had she not always known it was too good to last, this life where no one seemed to be violent to one another, now the time had come for her to truly tell if this new life was any better than that she had left…

Éomer took in a deep breath; calming himself and let his hand rest in the place he had vented his anger, preventing her from running. Aedre flinched at his closeness and again Éomer furrowed his brow, his eyes darkening dangerously.

"Why do you recoil? I am no Orc!" he spat, not fully understanding his anger only knowing that her reaction to his touch, to his presence made him feel a strange resentment.

Her eyes flashed to his, her gaze searching, startled by his words. They regarded each other for a long moment; the music sweetly drifting along the corridor, his breathing was heavy, his breath smelling sweetly of honey. The silence between them carried on, his dark expression did not lift and she became aware he was awaiting her answer. She glanced away and tried to move, to flee but his free hand forced her back and she once again felt the wall against her.

Within that small instant his lips were upon hers, heated and hungry, his body pressed forward pinning her in place as his mouth worked upon hers. His palm found her cheek, his fingers tracing the outline of her jaw until his hand rested upon the nape of her neck, pulling her forward and deeper into the kiss, suddenly his tongue slipped passed her lips and rubbed against her own. Aedre stiffened becoming frozen as his kiss continued, his free hand snaked skillfully around her waist pulling her further into his warmth and pressing her contours against his groin. He groaned lowly into her mouth at the sensation, his head seeming to spin with desire. His thoughts fleetingly made themselves aware between fragments of need, he could make her see that not all men were to be feared, that not all attention was a punishment, that he could make it pleasurable… make her want him as much as he wanted her in this moment.

His hand that rested beside her head came to rest upon her shoulder, massaging slowly, his fingers finding the hem of her gown, the cool flesh of her neck, chest and tops of her breasts. Slowly he let his fingertips lightly pass over them, teasing gently until he cupped one of her breasts in his palm and squeezed gently, taking the full weight of it into his hand and grazing his thumb across the sensitive nipple. He felt her stiffen more against him, taking the action as her desire he continued, his hand now sweeping over her curves, over her hips and grabbing her skirts. He runched them up, allowing his fingers to skim the flesh that became uncovered, he lingered over her inner thighs, teasing the sensitive skin. He broke their kiss and pressed his lips against the tops of her breasts, nipping gently at the skin as his fingers continued to circle vulnerable skin. He moved his hand away, meaning to loosen himself from his clothing and glanced at her face… he froze.

Aedre's eyes were tightly closed, tears cascading down her already stained cheeks, her hands grasping uselessly at his shoulders in a feeble attempt at restraining him. Slowly he stepped back, his eyes wide with disbelief, he had nearly taken the girl against her will and he would not have even known it. He pressed a hand to his temple and looked down at the ground trying to make sense of it all through the blur of too much drink.

Aedre finally opened her eyes, her dark gaze marred by tears clinging defiantly to her lashes. Leadenly her eyes shifted to meet his, betrayal and hurt shone accusingly at him, their beautiful bleak depths telling him that he was no better than the Orcs that violated her, that he had torn what trust she had into shreds. Whether she really felt these feeling or not was of no importance, this is what he thought of himself and what he saw reflected in her fearful face. He took a stumbled step backwards, his mouth opened and closed but no words escaped his lips. He clutched at his temple once again and with a last shamed look at Aedre he turned and walked in quick fluid steps, her innocent, haunted expression seared into his memory.