Disclaimer: Same as always…

So it's been a while since my last update, but I haven't had much inspiration to write. And I've spent almost three weeks at my grandfather's, and the man don't have internet! How frustrating! And my cousin was fixing my computer so I had to use pen and paper. And about four weeks ago I found out I got into the school I wanted! It's only about 7-8 schools in the country offering the education I want, and only fifteen students are accepted at the school I'm starting at. And when I'm done with this year it's over. NO MORE SCHOOL!

Yeah, I'm happy, but anyways, this is a fanfiction, not my damned biography! So read and please, please, please review! Only a little warning here: DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES drink while reading this. Just to be on the safe side. Had a reader who experienced that drinking and reading about Gimli at the same time could have a bad outcome, so Jen, if you're still reading this: don't drink anything!

Things Worth Fighting For

Chapter 18

Éomer of Rohan and his company had been expected to arrive several hours ago, but still the Rohirrim had not been seen approaching the City. The feast had been prepared and Merethrond was filled with the royalty and nobility from Gondor and Dol Amroth, and Elves from Rivendell and Lothlórien. The dinner was yet to be served, for King Elessar waited in the longest for Éomer to arrive, hoping it would not be long until he did. The guests were being served wine while they waited.

King Elessar sat on his throne, having received word from his scout that the Rohirrim would be arriving about early afternoon; however they had not, and now was early evening. He hoped nothing had befallen them on the road, but that he could hardly imagine, knowing Éomer's skills and bravery in battle. And what could possibly happen to them? The war was over after all; however it was difficult to imagine what could have delayed the company from Rohan so.

"What can we possibly be waiting for?" Talon asked his brother in a low voice. Arlos was four years younger than Talon and had arrived three nights earlier, to represent their house at the court. Talon could have done it, although since he had spent most of his time in Dol Amroth, their father had decided to send Arlos to represent their family. Talon was there as a member of Prince Imrahil's company.

Arlos looked at his brother. "Why, the King of Rohan and his company hadn't you heard?"

Talon cast his brother an annoyed, sideways glance. "Really, no I hadn't," he answered sarcastically.

"I never imagined you to be so impatience, brother," Arlos remarked.

"I merely wish for the pagans to arrive so we can get this over with," Talon defended himself. "This is a feast to honour the King of Rohan? Ridiculous!"

"Is he yet crowned?" Arlos asked. "And by the way how can you say they are pagans? They share our belief in the Valar."

"How would you know, little brother?" Talon asked. "The Rohirrim is nothing but a people of barbarians and heathens. Believe in nothing but their swords and horses and the valour of dying in battle by the hand of your enemy. I tell you, Arlos, they cannot compare to us noble people of Gondor."

"I don't think they have any wish to do so either, Talon," Arlos said. "From what I hear they are very proud of their heritage, their country and history. And who can hold that against them? Being as the people of Gondor is presumably not high on their list of wishes. Gondor has just recently been blessed with the return of a king after years of being lead by the line of the stewards after the last king died. Rohan has, after all, had a king ever since Eorl rode south and his people took Rohan as their own land."

"I see you have made a point of knowing their history," Talon said, not hiding how displeased he was with his brother's comments.

"It is good someone still knows it here in the south,"a voice said and Legolas Greenleaf approached the brothers. The Elf smiled at the younger brother. "I am Legolas of Mirkwood. It pleases me to know that some hold our friends in Rohan still in high regard and that it has not been forgotten they aided Gondor not just on the fields of Pelennor, but also when Eorl the Young aided the Steward of Gondor so long ago."

"Glory and victory is always remembered, but often one only remembers what one's own people achieved. It is important that we do not forget that without the aid of others we would not be here today to tell about it," he smiled. "I am Arlos of Lebinnin, my lord; Lord Talon here is my brother."

"An honour to meet you, Lord Arlos, and you are so right. To remember one's own history it is important to remember the history of out allies and friends as well," Legolas said.

"Yes, although I am afraid many have already forgotten that, as my brother is such a fine example of," Arlos said, rolling his eyes in a rather undignified manner. Instead of pursuing the subject of his brother, who was standing next to him, he decided to ask Legolas some questions. "Master Elf, do you know the Rohirrim?"

Legolas nodded. "I spent time in Rohan during the War, and King Éomer is a personal friend of mine."

"So then he is crowned?" Arlos asked.

"No, but if you will accompany the funeral escort of King Théoden, you will see how the Rohirrim honour their dead and the grand crowning of a new king," Legolas said.

Arlos smiled. "Then I am glad that my father instructed me to show the proper respect to the fallen king and be in the company that escorts him to his own land. Such a king who led his army to the fields of Pelennor to aid us in our hour of need is indeed worth our respect."

"Yes, of course my brother is correct," Talon said, taking a drink from a servant who passed by. "I apologize for my words earlier, Master Elf, but this waiting wears on me; an old injury in my leg that makes it tiring to stand for long periods of time."

Legolas looked at him. "Then maybe you should sit down." He turned at the younger brother again. "It was my pleasure to speak with you, Lord Arlos, but I fear I was really on my way to speak to King Elessar." He bowed and left towards the window where King Elessar was staring out on the City.

"An old injury?" Arlos looked at his brother. "Tell me, dear brother, when was you in war?"

Talon decided to only glare at his brother, hoping that would be enough to silence the younger man.

"As you wish," Arlos said with a shake of his head. "I think I shall see if I can find my future sister-in-law." He looked at Talon with a disgusted expression. "The girl you will soon make the must unhappiest in all Middle-earth."

"Do as you wish, Arlos, for that is what you will do no matter what I have to say about it," Talon said and glared at the retreating back of his brother.

Another hour went by and at last King Elessar ordered the dinner to be served, deciding it to be unreasonable to let his guests starve. He also sent out riders to scout for Éomer and his men.

Before a half hour had passed a servant approached the King. She bowed low before she spoke so only the King and the few sitting near him heard her. "My lord, King Éomer of Rohan has arrived."

"I must speak with him at once," Aragorn said.

The servant nodded. "He and his men is still in the stables, my lord."

"Helmling, when the night grows old and dawn approaches take some men and stand watch over the fallen until the hour of departure is upon us," Éomer ordered and Helmling nodded. "Until then you and the men you have chosen are wise to get some rest."

"Yes, my lord," Helmling said. "And may I suggest that rest is something we all need before the time ahead." He took five men with him whom would watch over the fallen king in the early hours before they would leave the White City.

A servant entered the stables and approached Éomer. "My lord," he bowed. "I am here to escort you to your chambers and to inform you that King Elessar wishes you join the feast as soon as you are ready."

"Yes, lead the way," Éomer said and looked at Éothain. "Meet me there, or I swear I will slay you with my own sword."

Éothain grinned. "Oh, I assure you, my lord, to see you mingling with the fine folk of Gondor I would not miss for all the horses in Rohan."

"On second thought I will slay you if you turn up," Éomer mumbled as he left the stables.

A herald announced that Éomer of Rohan had arrived as Éomer entered Merethrond. Some looked up to see his arrival, some continued with their meal. As Éomer made his way to King Elessar, he noticed Faramir, Steward of Gondor, looking up from his conversation with the Hobbit, Peregrin Took, when Éomer's arrival had been announced. Éomer also noticed the three princes of Dol Amroth, each greeting him with a short nod. Imrahil was smiling broadly, also bowing his head in greeting.

Éomer's heart almost stopped beating as he recognized Lothíriel, sitting between Erchirion and another man whom Éomer did not know, but who was probably her betrothed; the man who had the place in Lothíriel's life that should have been his.

Éomer rid himself of such thoughts, telling himself that he really never had a place in Lothíriel's life, that it was only an adventure, a distant memory, one that would soon be forgotten. But he knew he was lying to himself. It was like a knife in his heart knowing she would be someone else's wife, and it was a pain he would carry with him for the rest of his life. He turned his gaze away, noting instead the other guests, among them all the Hobbits, Gimli and Legolas and the other Elven lords and ladies.

Lothíriel dared looking up when she was certain Éomer was not looking in her direction. Across the table she saw Valinea giving her a sad, but encouraging smile.

Éomer and Aragorn greeted each other, and Éomer briefly explained why their arrival at the White City had been delayed; a young, inexperienced horse had stumbled and broken his leg, which forced two riders to share a horse, which slowed their pace. They had taken the horse to Minas Tirith, but were unable to take it back with them to Rohan when the funeral escort was to depart.

"We will lend your rider a horse for your journey back to Rohan and of course you may leave the horse here and our best stable boys will tend to it," Aragorn said.

"I thank you for your offer," Éomer said, bowing his head in appreciation.

"Now, my friend let me introduce you to my wife, Arwen Undómiel," Aragorn smiled at his wife, and now that Éomer really looked at Queen Arwen his first thought was how her hair reminded him of the long, raven hair of Lothíriel.

"I am honoured to meet you, my lady," Éomer said, kissing her hand. "My apologies for being unable to attend your wedding, but matters in my own country needed my attention."

Queen Arwen smiled. "The honour is mine, Lord Éomer." Her voice was soft, melodious, so unlike Lothíriel's voice that was like the waves clashing against the beach of Dol Amroth, like the wind ripping in the grass on the plains of Rohan. Her voice shifted with her moods. He had heard her speak softly when she told him about her mother, he had heard her voice slurred with drunkenness, he had heard her tell him boldly that she would not allow him go to Gondor without her, her voice angry when she argued her case and a second later she had told him in a whisper that she loved him. He had heard her cry death with them as they charged across the field of Pelennor after finding his uncle and sister.

Éomer did not know how long he'd stood there, lost in his own thoughts, but he noticed Aragorn looking at him with an odd expression, and sometimes he noticed the Queen glancing his way after he had taken his seat at the table to the left of Aragorn. Sometimes he looked discreetly in Lothíriel's direction, but averted his gaze before anyone noticed.

Soon it was time to dance. Couples moved onto the dance floor, musicians started playing and young women waited expectantly for handsome, young men to ask them for a dance. Others, such as Princess Lothíriel, would do anything in the world to get away from the feast and the dancing. It were expected that she dance with her betrothed, the Lord Talon of Lebinnin, but the Princess of Dol Amroth wanted the night to end without any dancing or interaction or even a glance in Talon's direction.

Faramir, Steward of Gondor, former Ranger of Ithilien, was more nervous than he was during his first battle or the first time he's led people into battle. He'd never been this nervous even during one of his father's reprimands. His heart was beating five times faster than normal and his hands were sweating.

He had debated with himself when it was a good time to approach Éomer of Rohan, a man he did not know and he could not tell how he was going to react to what Faramir wanted to ask him. Two times he had started walking against the man who held the power to make him the happiest man in Middle-earth, or destroy his life. Two times he had started walking across the room, and two times he'd ended up turning round and making his way back to where he came from. Now he was leaning against the wall and watching Éomer across the room, filling his mug with ale.

"What are we looking at?"

Faramir recognized the voice immediately and did not even bother to look down at Pippin. "You know Éomer of Rohan, do you not?" Faramir asked, watching as the subject of his inquiry talked to his cousin Elphir.

"Well, to say that I know him would be to take it a bit far, but I've met him, yes, although I haven't spoken to him much. Why do you ask about Lord Éomer?" Pippin asked.

"What do you think of him?" Faramir asked.

"Well, as I said I've only met him on a few occasions, but… well, what I think of him?" Pippin repeated the question. "Well, he's a warrior. He's been that all his life, I heard. I heard someone say he was born with a sword in his hand, but of course that isn't possible." He laughed, but suddenly became serious. "Well, what was I saying? Oh, yes, what I think of him, right? Well, he's brave, proud and a very good soldier. But I think he's a good man, you know, deep down." Faramir's mind was eased a little at those words. If Pippin thought he was a good man, he would surely also be a fair man. "But he's fiercely protective of Lady Éowyn, his sister." Faramir's hopes came clashing down. "What I heard in Rohan is that once he cut a man's… well, you know…"

"What?" Faramir looked at the Hobbit. "He cut a man?"

"No, he cut off a man's… his… you know, his…" Pippin lowered his voice and Faramir had to bend down to hear him. "He cut of a man his lower parts for making some remarks about his sister."

"You mean..?" Faramir looked shocked.

"But that is only something I heard, don't know if it's true or not," Pippin said. "So why do you ask about Lord Éomer anyway?"

"Oh, no reason," Faramir answered nonchalantly. "I was simply inquiring about our allies."

"Oh, if you say so," Pippin said, shrugging. "I thought perhaps it was because you wanted to ask Lord Éomer's permission to marry Éowyn."

Faramir looked surprised at Pippin, unable to reply.

Pippin smiled. "He's a good man, you know. Just ask Merry. And that thing about him cutting… well, I was only jesting, to see if my suspicions were right. I do sincerely apologize for that."

"Apology accepted, my friend," Faramir said. "I must admit I was concerned there for a minute."

Pippin grinned. "So I saw. But why haven't you talked to Éomer yet?"

"I suppose the correct answer would be that I am concerned," Faramir said.

"Concerned about what? I was only joking about Éomer cutting off a man's… well, why would you be concerned? He's a reasonable man, I'm sure he will do what's best for his sister," Pippin said.

"But perhaps his opinion what is best for his sister may not be in my favour," Faramir said.

"Well, you'll never know until you've asked," Pippin said. "So why don't you just get it over with and go ask him?"

Faramir smiled. "Thank you, Pippin."

Éomer was still speaking with Elphir when Faramir approached. "Lord Éomer, may I have a word with you?" Faramir asked.

"I think I shall go and seek out my wife," Elphir said before Éomer could answer.

Éomer nodded to Elphir and turned his attention to Faramir. "Perhaps we shall go outside?"

Faramir nodded his agreement and the two of them left Merethrond, going outside. "I am uncertain how to approach this subject, my lord," Faramir started as they walked.

"I suggest you speak what is on your mind, Steward," Éomer said.

"Yes," Faramir stopped walking, looking at Éomer. "I would like to ask your permission to wed your sister, Lady Éowyn."

Éomer looked at him. "And why is that?"

"I love her, my lord. I love her with all my heart and I wish to be with her for the rest of my life. She have already given her consent to be my wife, but as the laws demand I must first ask her closest male kin for permission to wed her before I can do so. I truly do love her, and all I wish is to make her the happiest woman in both Gondor and Rohan," Faramir said. "My lord, Rohan will forever be her home and she may return to Edoras whenever she desire. I fell in love with her spirit, her inner beauty, not only her outer beauty. Her spirit is of Rohan and I could never change that, even if I wished. I would rather die than see any hurt befall her."

Éomer seemed to think about what he had said. "Do you know what my sister fear most of all? A cage. She fears to lose her freedom, to be locked inside with no choices of her own to make. During the dark days she tended to our uncle who had fallen ill under the spell of Saruman and Wormtongue. She lived in a shadow. Though Théoden was still king, Wormtongue was the one who ruled Edoras. While I was in battle each day, slaying Orcs and Uruk-hai, she was the one forced to stay behind to care for an old man who no longer knew who she was but whom she loved like a father and whom had once loved her like a daughter. She was caged, with no means of escape, and Wormtongue haunted her every step, wishing for her to be his own. Too much grief has she experienced. So much grief and so little happiness. I must be certain that what I decide is the best for her, which is why I have one thing to ask you." Faramir nodded. "Do you have a cook?"

The question was so unexpected that Faramir was certain he had heard wrong. "I must have heard wrong, my lord. What did you say?"

"Éowyn cannot cook even if her life depended on it. I am aware it is common that noble women in Gondor do not cook themselves, but I felt I must warn you, as it is possible that Éowyn may want to prepare a meal for you one time. Under no circumstances must you allow her access to the kitchen. Your life depends on it, and I will hate to see my sister a widow because her cooking killed her husband." Éomer smiled slightlyas he looked at the disbelieving face of the Steward of Gondor. "Must I spell it out to you, Steward? You have my permission to wed my sister."

Faramir's face broke into a wide smile. "I… I do not know what to say, my lord."

"Make my sister happy, Faramir of Gondor. That is all I ask," Éomer said.

"Thank you, King Éomer," Faramir said, bowing.

"There are a few things we need to discuss, and one of them is your ridiculous bowing," Éomer said.

Lothíriel was taking a walk in the garden, finally alone having disappeared without anyone noticing her. The gardens were peaceful, allowing her to pretend for a moment that the world was a perfect place and that nothing bad could happen. Of course that was until she saw Éomer standing alone under a tree. He saw her too and their eyes met. Only the Valar knew how long they stood there, looking at each other with eyes filled with sorrow and longing.

Lothíriel took a deep breath and approached him. He still stood there, not moving, watching her every move as she approached, wanting to touch her, but forced himself not to.

"Éomer…" his name was but a whisper from her lips. Still he did not answer. The safest thing was a tactical retreat, but his legs would not move. "Éomer, I… I am so sorry. For everything, I…"

"Safe your breath, Princess, there is nothing you can say that I wish to hear," Éomer said.

"I am truly sorry, Éomer. I wish things were different."

"But they are not. Let us leave the past behind us and continue with our lives. Yours is in Dol Amroth with your husband, mine is in Edoras, alone," Éomer said.

"He is not my husband," Lothíriel said angrily.

Éomer nodded. "But he will be one day." He paused, looking deep into her eyes. "I loved you. I was foolish enough to believe you did the same."

"I did. I do. Éomer, I truly do love you," Lothíriel said.

"I wish I could believe that," Éomer said. "Princess… Lothíriel, I wish you all the happiness he can give you." He walked past her and Lothíriel grabbed his arm.

"I love you, Éomer."

Éomer looked at her, looked deep into her eyes, and he saw no lie. "You belong to another, Lothíriel. You and I can never be." And he left her then, forcing himself to appear calm, even as his heart was telling him to turn round, take her into his arms and take her to his own land and make her his queen, with no consideration of the consequences, even if it meant war with Dol Amroth and Gondor.

And Lothíriel stood under the tree, alone, forcing her tears back as she watched him leave.

"My steward, Lord Alheon, have often ruled Dol Amroth in my absence, especially during the War when my sons and I have been away. My daughter…" Imrahil sighed. "Yes, my daughter. Let it suffice to say that she was away for a time as well. So Dol Amroth has been in the capable hands of Lord Alheon and Lady Mariel for some time, and with no doubt shall still be in capable hands until my family and I return."

Aragorn smiled. "I am certain you will find your city in an even better state than when you left it."

"Oh, of that I have no doubt," Imrahil said with a smile. "I look forward to returning home. No place is dearer in a man's heart than his family and the place he calls his home, or wouldn't you say, Éomer?" When his question received no answer, the Prince looked to the left to find the youngest of the three monarchs obviously lost in his own thoughts, staring at his hands that rested on the table in front of them.

"Éomer?" Aragorn questioned, looking at his friend, but the lack of reaction from the younger man had him worried. For as long as he'd known Éomer, the man had never lost himself in thought. Whether he reflected on his sudden kingship or if there was something else troubling him, Aragorn couldn't tell.

Imrahil nudged the younger man, and Éomer looked at him with eyebrows raised. "What?"

"Is all well, my friend?" Imrahil asked.

"All is well," Éomer confirmed. "Why do you ask?"

"You seemed to be lost within your own mind," Aragorn said.

"Oh." That was the only reply Éomer could think of at the moment. If they knew where his thoughts had wandered he was sure Imrahil would wish to have him thrown into the deepest dungeon he could find and Aragorn… well, what Aragorn would do or think he did not know.

"Are you certain all is well?" Aragorn asked.

"Yes, of course," Éomer answered, but his voice held no conviction, even to his own ears.

Imrahil wanted to pursue the subject further, convinced his young friend was not telling the truth, but what right had he, other than a friend, to demand Éomer to tell him what was troubling him? Instead he spied two men approaching the table.

Talon and Arlos bowed.

"Excuse me, my lords, but you have not by any chance seen the Lady Lothíriel?" Arlos asked. "It seems my brother have somehow lost his betrothed during the night."

And with those words Éomer's worst nightmare was confirmed. The man he's seen earlier next to Lothíriel was indeed her future husband.

Imrahil replied that he hadn't seen his daughter for some time, but he was not too worried about it. "Lord Éomer, this is Lord Talon of Lebinnin, betrothed to my daughter, Lothíriel, and this is his brother, Lord Arlos," Imrahil said. "Talon, Lord Arlos, this is Éomer King of Rohan."

Talon looked at the horse-lord, not attempting to hide his disgust. He had always believed the people of Rohan to be barbarians, a people worth neither friendship nor acknowledgement. But this was not the place for such thoughts, seeing as this horse-lord was a dear friend to his future father-in-law, and he was also a dear friend to the King of Gondor, and Talon was wise enough to know now was not the time to make any enemies. Talon bowed, noting with distaste that this man, this barbarian, before him held a title higher than his own. "I am honoured to meet you, King of Rohan."

Éomer nodded stiffly in reply, seeing right through the mask of this Gondorian. His dislike for the man only grew. His eyes reminded Éomer of the eyes of the traitor Gríma Wormtongue; his voice was different, more that of a nobleman and not a man who lived in the shadows, sneaking around and whispering in the ear of a sick, old man, but Éomer was certain this snake had a tongue just as poisonous as Wormtongue. Éomer had no intention of hiding his dislike for Talon of Lebinnin, which was why he did not reply to Lord Talon's greeting. Imrahil took obviously no notice of this, as he continued talking to Talon, saying that his daughter had most likely only gone outside to get some air. Aragorn however was noticing Éomer's curt manner and the way he glared at the man. Wondering what reason Éomer could have to dislike Lord Talon so; Aragorn started watching the younger man more closely over the next few weeks.

As the feast drove to an end, Gimli the Dwarf approached Éomer. "Good evening, horse-master. Before we go to rest there are certain rash words that were spoken on the plains of Rohan during our first meeting as I recall, and I think the time has come for us to settle them."

"Indeed I believe you are right," Éomer said, recalling the words and when they were spoken. "So, Gimli Glóin's son, have you your axe ready?"

"Nay, lord, but I can speedily fetch it, if there be need," Gimli said.

"You shall judge," Éomer said. "For as you said there are certain rash words concerning the Lady in the Golden Wood that still lie between us."

"And now you have seen her with your own eyes," Gimli said. "Well, lord, what say you now?"

For a second Éomer saw Lothíriel's face before him, her green eyes sparkling and her sweet lips in a joyful smile, her raven hair falling in waves down her shoulders. He also recalled how Queen Arwen's hair reminded him of Lothíriel's. "Alas, I will not say that she is the fairest lady that lives." For how could he lie? Lady Galadriel was indeed very beautiful, but in his opinion no woman could compare to Lothíriel.

"Then I must go for my axe," Gimli said standing up, ready to leave and Éomer did not doubt the Dwarf would return with axe in hand.

"But first I will plead this excuse." Éomer said and the Dwarf stopped, looking at him. "Had I seen her in other company, I would have said all that you could wish. But now I will put Queen Arwen Evenstar first." As the words left his mouth his mind and heart protested violently, screaming out Lothíriel's name, but he pushed his feelings aside. "And I am ready to do battle on my own part with any who deny me. Shall I call for my sword?"

Then Gimli bowed low. "Nay, you are excused for my part, lord. You have chosen the Evening; but my love is given to the Morning. And my heart forebodes that soon it will pass away for ever."

The Evening, the darkness, was what he had chosen. But as Gimli believed the Morning would soon pass away for ever, Éomer knew that the Evening had already passed, leaving only darkness.

Gimli sat down again. "So I guess you can like both then, lord."

Now Éomer could only send him a puzzled look, having no idea what the Dwarf spoke of. "Like both what?" He asked.

"Well, men and women, of course," Gimli answered.

Éomer's expression only became more confused. "Master Dwarf, you have me at a loss. What is it you speak of?"

Gimli's big eyebrows lifted. It seemed like Éomer had no idea what he was speaking of. Well, he would have to remind him then. "You can like both men and women."

Simple words, but still Éomer could not understand their meaning. "Gimli, my friend, speak plainer."

"How much plainer can one speak, lord?" Gimli asked. "You find women attractive, do you not?"

"Of course, is there not a time all men have fallen into the net of a woman?" Éomer asked, taking a drink of the wine he had been drowning in misery before Gimli had approached him.

"But you're also attracted to men."

Éomer coughed violently, trying to breath, staring at the Dwarf who was now covered in wine from head to toe. Nothing could have prepared him for those words. He still tried to clear his airways while trying to ask Gimli what he had said. "What… do…" he coughed.

Gimli looked at Éomer with a very confused expression. "What happened, Éomer?" He asked, using his hands to dry his face.

"What the hell… did you just say?" Éomer asked.

"I asked what…"

"No, no, what did you say about that… thing."

Realization hit him. "Oh, I simply said you're also attracted to men." After thinking about it ever since Dunharrow, Gimli decided that Éomer was his friend and that he probably could get used to his friend's strange habits. It couldn't be that hard to accept. Could it?

"What in the name of Bema made you say that? It's ridiculous!" Éomer said, trying to check his anger. Who in the name of Bema could have said something like that about him? He knew it wasn't a member of his éored. They were fiercely loyal to him and most of them knew about his past relationship with Lothíriel, although none had said they knew except for Éothain. He mentally made up a list of people who hated him enough to start a rumour like that.

"Oh, but your secret is safe with me, Lord Éomer, fear not for that," Gimli said. "I will take the secret with me to my grave."

"It's not true, who told you something like this?" Éomer questioned. "There is no secret to be kept safe, Gimli. These accusations are without grounds, you may say that to whoever told you these lies."

"No one told me, lord, I saw it with my own eyes," Gimli said.

"You saw what?" Éomer shouted attracting the attention of the few whom where still left in the hall. He quieted himself. "You saw what?" he repeated.

"You have not forgotten, have you?" Gimli asked. "Tell me not that the lad fell?"

"What lad?" Éomer asked frustrated. "Is this a prank? If it is it is not at all amusing."

"The lad I saw you kissing in the stables!" Gimli's voice boomed across the hall, drawing the attention of the servant left in there. All other guests had retired to their chambers.

Éomer groaned. "What the hell are you speaking of?" he asked; his patience now as thin as paper. Not only that, Gimli's outburst had caused the people in the hall to look at them. Éomer was tired, angry, annoyed and frustrated.

"You kissed…"

"Please speak up a little louder; I do not believe they heard you in Harad," Éomer said.

Gimli looked at him for a second, and then looked at his feet. He had publicly humiliated a king! Oh, I'll never leave the Lonely Mountain ever again if I survive this!

"First of all, whatever you believe you saw, or whatever you have heard, are lies. I have never nor will I ever kiss a man. Do you even know how disgusting that sounds? I don't know how it is with Dwarves…"

"Dwarf men do not like other Dwarf men!" Gimli protested.

"Fine, but neither does the Rohirrim!" Éomer said. "Oh, this is ridiculous. I'm not even going to defend myself from such a baseless accusation."

"So I can tell Legolas and Aragorn that you're not attracted to men?" Gimli asked.

Éomer stared at him, unable to reply. Gimli had said he saw him kiss a boy in the stables. The stables at Edoras? Suddenly it hit him, and Éomer could not help himself. He started laughing. The more he thought about it the more amusing he found the entire situation, and the more he laughed. He laughed so hard that when he saw the utterly confused expression on Gimli's face, mixed with uncertainty and apparently fear, he was certain he would die as he tried to catch his breath. "Oh, Gimli, I fear you have misunderstood all, my friend."

"I have misunderstood?" Gimli asked.

"Indeed you have," Éomer replied, chuckling.

"What is so amusing?" Gimli asked, getting frustrated, because he found nothing about the situation amusing.

"It is not important, my friend," Éomer replied. "I think I shall retire now. I bid you a good night, Gimli." And with that he left, the image of Lothíriel in full armour and a cloak hiding her face burned into his mind.

lady scribe of avandell: Well, who actually likes Talon? He's a bastard, and one of the worst. But I wrote him so I could hate someone else than Wormtongue. Now that was a son-of-a-bitch who could not be trusted! Well, as for ways to get her out of the whole marriage with Talon… well, you'll just have to wait and see;o)

LothirielofGondor: Who will get to Talon first, or whom will Talon get to first? Now that's a question, isn't it? But I'm not gonna tell! All I can say is that this gets worse before it gets better! But it will get better. Well, thanks for reviewing;p

Wondereye: You have to wait a bit for Talon to show his true, evil self, but he doesn't like Éomer or Rohan much, does he? And he doesn't even bother to hide it! Stupid man! Doesn't he know that Éomer has a really sharp sword somewhere in his room? It'll be a lot more confrontations between the two of them in the future!

Skinnyrita: Having Éomer kill Talon would be lots of fun! But having him kill him yet would just ruin the story. Who would be the big bad guy then? Thanks for reviewing;o)

Four reviews? What's that all about? BTW what do you think about Arlos?