A/N

Ok, this time no overly long intro or explanations lol I will keep it short... ish.

I have been working on this story, that I do promise but my beta has been too busy to look over my chapters and without them I'm afarid I'm not going to post up any chapters, another pair of eyes always catches spelling mistakes spell check misses and clunky sounding plot holes. But I do have my beta back now so should be updating a little more, fingers crossed and apologies and thanks for all of you that are willing to stick with the story.

Big thank you for all the review and here we go!

...

Aedre's chores had thankfully taken up most of the passing hours, leaving her little time to think, and mid morning came and went. But still the worry and fretting would not fully let her be. Where had Sunniva gone? She couldn't help the gut curling idea that perhaps, somehow, Sunniva would discover her sinful act... or someone else of the Golden Hall would know the truth and then they would come for her, with ropes to pinch and bind her limbs and torches of flame to burn away her flesh. In her life she had seen many a person die at the cruel demands of fire, the Orcs had often used it to flush out anyone hiding in their homes for safety in the villages. But some were too afraid to leave what they knew, bearing the heat as long as their will could and then they'd break out of the small shacks of burning wood, their cries of agony echoing into the acrid air... but Aedre also knew what fire... what heat could do to her own flesh. At this thought she looked down at her scarred hand and softly touched the rough skin, shivering slightly at the remembrance as she walked through the corridors.

Before she quite realised it, she stood outside of the stables. Part of her had wanted to come here, but now she was before the great wooden building with many people crowded around, talking of death and murder, she wanted no more than to turn and run back into the hall, back to her room where none of this could assault her senses. Yet here she stood...

The people who had gathered all chattered at once, their gossip and words varying from the logical to the ridiculous, whispers of evil spirits and ill omens along with jilted lovers and drunken mistakes. Aedre stood amongst them all, acting as if she were one of them and knowing with every ounce of her being that she was not, that she could not be like them after what she had done. She willed her legs to move and take her away from here, so her mind could calm and settle but they refused her. Unwanted tears stung at her eyes and she tried hard to blink them away, but before she could do or think much more she felt a warm hand upon her shoulder. Aedre started in surprise and quickly turned her head to see Sunniva standing behind her, a grave expression upon her face.

"It seems I was wrong to think it was mere rumours" Sunniva whispered, before looking down at Aedre and noticing the girl's distressed expression. Her own face softened, "Do not fret Aedre, it is a sad time, but we must all endure such things." She squeezed Aedre's shoulder in reassurance, but the tone of her voice was flat and sorrowful.

Aedre couldn't prevent a small tear escaping and sliding down her cheek. In response Sunniva wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders. "Do not weep. Guene is in a better place." She smiled and glanced up at the sky.

Aedre followed her gaze and studied the grey clouds above them, her brow furrowed into a frown before she turned questioningly to Sunniva.

The older woman's expression was one of surprise. For whilst she had taught Aedre many things, they had all been about life and living, it had never occurred to her that Aedre was ignorant in the ways of dying and death.

Finally she smiled. "Inside us all is our soul, our spirit, what makes us who we are. Inside you there is what makes you Aedre, understand?"

Aedre cocked her head, listening with curiosity.

"When we die, our spirits don't die, they never die. They just go on to a better place, somewhere that is not of this land. Somewhere all the ancients of Rohan dwell and live in peace, a place where everyone is happy, it is still sad to leave our lives here and the ones we love, but we do not fade."

Aedre pursed her lips in thought. To her ears this sounded like a tale, a story, something that was mere fantasy, like the scrolls of legends that Éomer often read aloud to amuse her... how could such a place exist? No life could be only full of joy... she glanced back at the stables and her eyes lowered. She hoped that if there was such a place Guene was now there, this thought could at least ease her own guilt a little.

...

Éomer headed towards the council chambers. It seemed the hall was a little busier with commotion this morning but he paid it little heed, his mind was preoccupied with more important things. He had again asked the council to hear his voice in the matter of marrying a commoner. It seemed all he did for many nights past was think of counter arguments, of ways he could convince them, but the stubborn old men always refused to be moved, they always had some kind of reason or vocal comeback to whatever he said.

Baal walked briskly beside him. He was a short and slightly lanky young man, but despite his age he had a great thirst for knowledge. He held many scrolls of parchment in his arms, trying his best to keep up with the king's long stride while balancing his workload.

"My Lord?" His voice was reedy but not unpleasant.

"Hmm?" Éomer's answer was gruff and distracted.

"I think our chances of beating the council at their own game are great today, I have researched many old records from Gondor and The White City itself. Although I cannot find any mention of a king marrying a commoner, the fact that the younger brother of an ancient king of Rohan once married a mere midwife is a good omen for us."

"So you've already said." Éomer's words were chiding but his tone was pleased and a small smile spread across his lips.

"As I've said before my Lord," Baal began uncertainly, "it would help me if I knew who the lady in question was, the more information I have, the better I can build a good list of reasons why she would make a good companion for you and Rohan."

Éomer suddenly halted, spinning upon his heel to face the man following behind him, causing Baal to stop suddenly. A few of the scrolls escaped his grasp and fell onto the stone floor. Éomer gave a low noise of irritation before bending and aiding Baal in collecting the scrolls.

"We have already talked much upon this matter Baal; I do not wish to put her in any kind of danger, no matter how small that may be."

Baal gave a small nod. "Yes, my Lord, forgive me."

"When our feet are upon more solid footing, once the council will at least listen without quoting ancient laws, then we can discuss this again. But until then let us focus on the council and turning their minds to becoming reasonable."

"Yes my Lord" Baal said, now with all the scrolls once again gathered within his arms.

The door to the council chambers loomed before them and Éomer took in a deep breath, readying himself for what lay ahead. He reached out and unlatched the door, allowing it to swing gently back on its hinges. Within, several older men in rich robes of greens, golds and deep reds were already sat at a large wooden table, their expressions expectant.

As Éomer entered, the deep conversation they and all been embroiled in with each other came to an abrupt halt and the king entered the now silent room, the sound of his own footsteps echoing across the stone flagged floor. He took his place at the head of the table and Baal took a small stool just to the left of where he now sat. The young man began hurriedly sorting his papers. Éomer glanced around at the faces and eyes that were all firmly looking in his direction. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"My lords, you know why I have called you to the council chambers once again, it is to state my case in the hopes that we can all come to a decision we can agree upon, for the good of Edoras and Rohan."

The nobles shifted with discomfort at his words and an older man with white, thinning hair motioned that he too wished to speak. Éomer gave him leave to do so with a gesture of his hand.

"Éomer King, we know your will and we know it is strong. But the laws and traditions that govern Rohan cannot permit a union between commoner and one of noble birth. If we change this tradition to bend to a want you wish to fulfil, our ways as the people of Rohan will be threatened." This was met by noises of agreement from the other nobles and Éomer's brow furrowed in annoyance. He had barely uttered a word upon the subject and already they were jumping upon his cause like mad dogs fighting over a carcass. They were beginning to lose patience with the circumstances just as much as he himself.

"We would will you to choose a lady of name, one whom will be fit to stand beside our king and bond us in friendship to another land."

Éomer rested his hand at his temple. "You talk again of the daughter of prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth."

"My lord, the princess Lothíriel is a good match. Perhaps if you visited her..."

Éomer banged his fist violently upon the table causing all at the table to jump. "I have no need to visit her. I respect your words and know them to be wise in the matter that the Princess would indeed make a good queen for Rohan, but she would not be my queen, nor my wife... I can have no other but the one I choose." He brought his hand to rest upon the armrest of the chair, gripping it lightly as he spoke. "If you do not let me choose, Rohan may have to be content with a lone king as ruler."

The nobles let out a collective gasp. "My Lord, surely you cannot mean these words. Without an heir the lands of Rohan would descend into chaos."

"You stretch your words and the truth too far Raynar, you know I could choose an heir if I so wished, I would not leave Rohan open to danger."

"Éomer King, to go so far for only a mere woman, a commoner... to endanger us all for the happiness of one..."

Éomer glared at him fiercely causing the old man to stop his speech mid word. Éomer shook his head. "I did not come here to exchange heated words and fight with any of you; it is not my wish or desire to cause any of you unwanted distress. But you must hear me; will you not hear your king with open hearts and minds?"

The nobles glanced at each other unsurely, before they gave a reluctant nod. "I am thankful" Éomer said, acknowledging their small attempt at being civil. "Scrolls have been found by the scribe Baal that may help you to see this would not destroy any of Rohan's traditions, nor endanger our way of life."

The nobles exchanged looks that easily spoke of the fact that they did not believe such a thing was possible.

"We will hear your words Éomer king and we will listen, but do not chance to hope it will turn us away from the honour of tradition, if you do not sway us, will you at least hear our council upon a good marriage?"

"My lords, I know all are weary of this subject, today I hope we can leave this room in good spirits." Éomer bit back the anger that slowly coiled within him; to lose his temper now would do nothing but harm the very fragile truce that had settled over the table. "If I cannot sway you even an inch from your decision, I will listen, but no more for the current time" he said, hating each word that left his lips. He had so little patience for these types of men, his memory clouded with dark thoughts of Grima Wormtongue, the wretched spy who had betrayed his own people, his own king, for the promise of power. Such men were easily shaken by just a promise and Éomer could not fully rid himself of this thought nor could he bear to trust them, perhaps this was the reason they now quarrelled so.

Éomer turned to Baal who seemed to have prepared himself for the trial ahead and nodded, signalling that the young man could begin.

"My lords" Baal said, a little too highly. He stood from his seat, a roll of parchment clutched in his grasp. "I have searched for the proof your hearts and eyes desire and have found what I believe to be good cause for the king to choose his own queen." He unrolled the parchment and handed it to one of the nearby nobles who quickly began to read before passing it to the next man. "As you can see my lords, the brother of one of our own ancient kings married a mere commoner, none objected harshly and the wife bore him many healthy children."

"Yes, this is the truth," one of the men interrupted with a splutter, "but he was not the king."

Baal took a shallow breath and Éomer's grip upon the chair tightened, this was their last hope, it would bring them victory or downfall. "It is true my lord, but Éomer King is himself not the original heir, he too would have had the same position as this ancient of royal blood." He paused, letting the words hang in the air.

"That is not the point." The men began to murmur among themselves, dispelling the silence.

"Please hear me lords" Baal said, holding up his hand, respectfully calling for quiet. "Many things have not come to pass that were thought to be certain; the war of the One Ring has left our lands in tatters. The poor cry out for food, for shelter and for aid and our king, a man who had no thought of taking upon such a role has born all this weight upon his shoulders. Has he not shown that his judgement is wise? That his will is strong? His sword just? Our lands are slowly beginning to recover, our people to smile once more. Rohan will once again be great and do we not owe our thanks to our king and his wisdom?"

The nobles exchanged nervous glances.

"Will you not trust his wisdom now; will you not hear his just words? He has brought light back to our lands, our people; can we not allow him a little light of his own to lighten the load of such dark times?"

The council members again exchanged glances but remained silent.

"Our traditions are important, this I cannot deny, but the happiness of the people of Rohan is above this, is not our own king a man of Rohan? I wish for you to hear my words my lords and heed whatever your own hearts and minds would bid you to do, for the good of all."

Baal had lost all the colour from his cheeks as he returned to his seat. He glanced up at Éomer seeking reassurance that he had done well and Éomer gave him a small smile.

Raynar slowly rose, his eyes upon the king. "The scribe Baal speaks words with meanings that are beyond his years, you picked the man to speak your cause well Éomer King." This was met with mutterings of agreement. "Perhaps we were too hasty in our harsh judgements, it is true that you have restored much of Rohan through these dark times, you have led your people well and our judgement should not be taken so lightly."

Éomer did not speak but he felt a stirring within him, a small flame of hope flickering into being.

"Our hearts still lie with tradition but our minds have heard your words well and we will discuss upon them without sentence. We will need time."

Éomer nodded, stroking his beard absently. "I will gladly grant you the time you seek."

Raynar gave a stiff bow before returning to his own seat.

"Needs must that I leave you now to your own thoughts, I pray that you will call upon me when your minds are set and we may talk once again" Éomer said.

The nobles gave a respectful single nod as Éomer got to his feet. He gave them a small incline of his head in response before leaving them to deliberate his future, Baal close at his heels. When they reached the safety of the deserted corridor he turned to the young scribe, a small grin gracing his features.

"It went better than I had hoped." His tone was merry but a soft furrow still lay upon his brow.

"Yes, my lord. It seems the words I spoke swayed them, if only a little."

Éomer slapped him good naturedly upon the back. "That was all I need - it is small, but it is hope."