It took a long moment for the King of Rohan to get his emotions under control again. The fresh air of evening helped somewhat, and once he got back inside, he felt calmer – though not even slightly less disappointed. Still, he tried to tell himself that he was being foolish, letting her get to him like this... such behaviour was more fit for younger men who were not kings.

He had momentarily considered picking out the flowers from his hair, but as he had taken off one blue flower and crushed it inside his palm, he had decided to let it go. He had chosen to act like a fool, and so he'd be the fool until the very end.

Once inside, he grabbed a glass of wine from one servant and devoured the drink in one go. Éowyn had sometimes told him drinking had never solved anyone's problems but at least for the moment it seemed like a very good idea. After all, those times when he had pillaged some ale from the kitchens of Meduseld for himself and Éothain when the two of them had felt the shadows closing in, at least everything had seemed a bit more bearable for a moment.

As soon as Éomer was done with his glass, couple of lords approached him; he didn't know them but apparently they knew him very well. Listening to them it quickly became clear they were hoping to establish some business in Edoras and were trying to get him grant them monopoly on some goods, but due to his very poor concentration on their words he didn't even take note of what it was they wanted monopoly over. His eyes were already making rounds about the crowd and soon he spotted her. She was talking with Erchirion, and it was looking heated as if they were arguing about something. There was even a frown on her face... an uncomfortable feel came to him: was he to be blamed for that look?

If so, he needed more wine. Preferably now.

"King Éomer? What do you think of this plan?" the voice of the shorter of two men brought him back. He blinked and then gave the two one of his more intense stares, the kind which usually helped him to rid himself of unwanted attention. The reputation of a fierce warrior was useful sometimes.

"I will have to think about it", he announced and decided he needed more wine. "If you will excuse me."

He did not stop to listen whether they did excuse him, but pushed past them and searched for anything that resembled wine. Thankfully it was moderately easy for him to spot things like that, what with his uncommon height.

It was a couple of glasses later than he finally felt a little less bitter, and he was thinking on getting the third when Éothain appeared as if from nowhere.

"There you are, finally! I lost you after the second dance. Where have you been?" the captain asked.

"Doesn't matter", Éomer muttered and looked past the older man. There! A servant was serving drinks, and there was even something that resembled mead... But Éothain, who was related to hawks seeing how sharply he noticed things, had different ideas.

"Have you been drinking, Éomer?" he asked suspiciously. "Oh, yes you have. I know that look. Don't you think it's time to slow down?"

"What are you, my mother?" the young king groaned and considered telling Éothain to go away and leave him alone. However, the captain did not seem too impressed.

"My lord, if I may remind you, we are in the middle of a very grand ball hosted by your good friend Imrahil. Surely you're not going to embarrass him in his own home by acting like some village drunkard? This is not Rohan where you can drink yourself silly in a feast and no one will think of it twice. So would you please get a hang of yourself and act like the king you are?" he said quietly, but his voice was dead serious, even stern.

"I was right. You are my mother", Éomer sighed. But Éothain was right. He was acting stupid. "Forgive me."

"Yes, that is what I am every now and then, because just when I think you may have finally grown up, you prove yet again that you're still 12 years old", the captain said, but now there was something like amusement in his eyes.

"You'll pay for that comment later", the young king told his second-in-command, which made the older man grin.

"Oh, I know", he said and smiled. "Go ahead and dance with the ladies. They look like you've been neglecting them anyway."

Éothain's advice wasn't probably so bad, though Éomer wasn't certain he really was in dancing mood. Still, he pushed those thoughts to the background, along with what displeasure he had felt. He randomly stopped on the front of one young woman whose name he could no longer remember and asked her for a dance. She seemed very delighted by the offer and eagerly followed him to the dance floor. After that, it was Lady Glosswen's turn again, as he had thought that maybe he'd have to make up for his poor behaviour of before.

Indeed, when you got over the fact that she was so small, she was a good dancer and not a bad conversationalist either. It was rather effortless with her, and quickly he noticed he had danced with her no less than three dances. By the end of the third one, she was looking so radiant that one might expect her to burst with delight.

"Come, my lord! Have you met aunt and cousins yet?" she asked as she practically swept him off from the dance floor – a remarkable feat for someone who was about half his size. But he allowed her to guide her to three women who had been standing near and observing the dancers. They all had similar blue eyes as Lady Glosswen herself, but their hair was more black than brown like hers. Éomer thought here was something similar about all four women's noses – a family trait no doubt. The oldest of them was obviously Glosswen's aunt, and on her both sides stood two young women. The older of the two was dressed in black, from which Éomer guessed she had been married and lost her husband lately, and the younger one could not have seen more than thirteen or fourteen summers.

"Aunt, cousins, this is King Éomer of Rohan", Lady Glosswen introduced him, though he was fairly sure he had met the women earlier (he vaguely remembered Imrahil saying that the oldest of three was some distant cousin).

"Ladies", he greeted the women and bowed his head, which they answered with graceful curtseys. A bit of small talk followed that went about along the same lines as most of his conversations tonight: how he found Dol Amroth, how long he was going to stay, what plans he had and so on. It was somewhat tedious, and Éomer thought he saw the same thought in Lady Glosswen's aunt's eyes. The woman had a face that suggested she didn't smile much, but when he commented on "the poisonous sea air", it seemed to him that the corners of her mouth were briefly lifted.

"Your Majesty, is it true that you gave Princess Lothíriel a flower from your hair?" the younger cousin finally asked and looked like it was a question she had held inside herself ever since Glosswen had brought him to meet her aunt and cousins but couldn't possibly keep it any longer; her older sister instantly gave the girl a displeased look.

"That is indeed true", Éomer said and lifted his eyebrows, though he considered perhaps he shouldn't be surprised that his actions were so closely observed. Éothain had really been right to tell him slow down with the drinks.

"Then why don't Your Majesty give one to our cousin?" the girl pressed on and her eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Sarniel!" her mother sharply called, but Éomer lifted his hand.

"It is quite all right, my lady. But to answer your question, Lady Sarniel, I'm afraid it is a Rohirric custom you only give one flower from your hair", he said gracefully, though he felt it might be a good time for him to make his exit before the story about King of Rohan's flowers grew any larger.

Fortunately, Erchirion chose that moment to arrive to the scene. He nodded briefly to the women and then looked at the young king.

"Could I perhaps have a word with you, my lord?" the prince asked. Éomer excused himself (the look of disappointment on Lady Glosswen's face didn't escape him) and followed Erchirion. The prince lead him outside, where it was mostly peaceful, except for few couples admiring the sights over the garden (or pretending to do that, when it was actually each other they admired).

"What is it?" Éomer asked once Erchirion had stopped by the railing at the edge of terrace.

"Do tell me, what did you and Lothíriel speak of? Did you say something to upset her? She wouldn't talk to me and when I wouldn't leave it, she actually left the ball", the prince said in low voice; the hardness of it wasn't lost to the King of Rohan. As he was an older brother himself, he could very well understand Erchirion's reaction... and it troubled him that the princess was unhappy. Had he been too rough with her?

"I... it was nothing of import. At least nothing that should have upset her enough to make her leave", he said quietly. It was true, wasn't it?

Erchirion watched him very sharply, as if trying to read his mind. Éomer had met all three of Imrahil's sons and he held the notion that the second-born prince was probably most acute of them.

"Be honest with me. What are your intentions towards her to begin with? If you mean her ill-" the prince began, but Éomer disrupted him by lifting his hands in a gesture that he hoped was soothing.

"Have no fear, Erchirion. I have no intentions towards her. I respect your sister just as I respect you, and I don't wish to cause her any harm or unhappiness. You know that I am a friend of your family", he said calmly. Fortunately, his words seemed to convince the prince and hopefully there would not be any bloody confrontations to defend the princess' honour.

Erchirion's face relaxed and he patted the young king's shoulder.

"I am glad to hear that. I already feared that I might have to trash you for her", he said and grinned. Éomer chuckled.

"I wonder, who would trash and whom?" he said, rolling his eyes. "But truth be told, who'd dare to treat her ill with brothers as fierce as you three?"

"Indeed, my good king", Erchirion laughed, though for a split second it seemed like there was a shadow in his clear grey eyes. Then he looked at Éomer with a bit more serious face, "I am sorry to have doubted you. Lothíriel's just... well, she's our little sister. We may be a bit peculiar family sometimes, but we defend our own."

"She's lucky to have such brothers", the Lord of the Mark said in quiet tones. Erchirion smiled at first, but again his expression turned more grave as he looked at the Rohir.

"Is everything all right, my friend?" the prince asked.

"How so?" Éomer asked back.

"I don't know. You look tired... even more than you did during the war. Is there something bothering you?" the prince asked and sounded worried.

"I suppose I am tired... this king business is far more difficult than I'd have expected. And even here, when I'm visiting friends, the question of my marriage is always hovering over conversations", the young king sighed, looking down into the garden. Erchirion briefly rested his hand on Éomer's shoulder.

"Father wasn't really thinking when he suggested this whole ball thing", the prince said softly, "and nor did I think when I started talking about dancing. I'm sorry. I didn't really understand."

"Oh, it's fine. It's just that I never expected this to happen to me. It was always Théodred's burden to bear. I am still adjusting and it is not proving to be so easy", Éomer explained and looked at his friend. Erchirion was wearing a compassionate face.

"Would you like to sneak away perhaps? Go and have some rest? I'll cover for you and come up with something", he offered. That sounded very tempting, though Éomer thought he should probably get back inside... but then, what did it hurt? Perhaps he could go out for a bit and return after a moment of just being alone.

"That would be nice, yes", he agreed after contemplating it for a moment. Then he looked doubtfully at his friend, "What of your father?"

Erchirion grinned at that.

"Don't worry about him. I know how to handle the old man. You just go ahead and catch a little air. Maybe you should go down to the beach? It's really pretty down there, now that it's almost full moon and the skies are so clear", the prince offered. That was a suggestion Éomer gladly agreed on, and once his friend had given him directions for a discreet path down to the beach, he went on his way.


A/N: No Lothíriel in this one, but perhaps that will be redeemed in the next update... you never know what can happen on a beach, after all. Also I felt that bit of bonding with Erchirion might be in order, especially after he so discreetly arranged dancing lessons for Éomer before.


BlueNynaeve - I fear wooing must wait, at least for now... As for him losing his confidence, I'd say it's not easy to keep that up without being a douchebag when you feel that the other party doesn't really appreciate your attitude. But we'll see more about that later. :)

Talia119 - Éothain might even find that a good joke, so perhaps there'll be more flowers in Éomer's immediate future. :D