Disclaimer: I unfortunately do not own Lord of the Rings. Sigh…

Lothíriel walked out of the healer's workshop, smiling to herself. She resisted the urge to skip, as that would be very unladylike. She smiled again and looked up at the sky. It was after midnight, and a chill breeze swept through Edoras. Lothíriel did not shiver however; she was glowing too much inside. Light danced in her eyes.

'I cannot wait to tell Éomer!' she whispered to herself.

Light blazed out of a tavern door as a drinking group spilled out of it. They were laughing raucously and their voices were slurred. They seemed to be extremely drunk. One of them began to boast loudly:

'Did you see the fair one at the back? Damn it, I did her good and hard!'

The group burst into hysterics before one of them managed to ask how much he had paid for the wench.

'Oh, enough. Most certainly enough!' The man replied.

This set the men off again and they collapsed against the wall, howling with merriment. Lothíriel wrinkled her nose in distaste at the Rohír's antics. The man who had been boasting turned his head towards her, and Lothíriel gasped. It was Éomer. Her husband. The group moved off again, in the direction of Meduseld. Lothíriel waited for a while, until the loud sounds of the drunken group had faded into nothing, before beginning to creep home. She caught a glimpse of the name of the tavern. Gytha's Drink and Company. A whorehouse.

XXXXXX

Éomer rolled over and blinked blearily, yawning. Suddenly his head exploded, and he moaned, covering his eyes. He had had far too much to drink last night. There was only one way to fix a hangover so he threw back the covers, and got out of bed slowly, trying not to inflame his headache. He shoved a pair of brown breeches on, and a white linen undershirt. Yanking on his boots he made his way down the stairs. Lothíriel must already be up. Éomer rubbed his face and yawned again. He smiled as he saw his wife sitting in a chair, staring out of the window. This smile rapidly faded as he looked at her face. Lothíriel was pale and her eyes were rimmed with red. There were dark, sagging circles under her eyes and her hair was a mess. Lothíriel looked around and instead of looking happy to see Éomer, she shot him a filthy glare, before resuming her watch out of the window.

'Loth?' he asked, tentatively.

'How was your night?' asked Lothíriel, her voice coated with innocence, but Éomer could hear the hardness underneath.

'It was fine, though I think I drank too much.' Éomer admitted, bewildered by Lothíriel's attitude.

'And how about the company? Did that meet your standards?' Lothíriel enquired, in that same polite, but cold tone.

'The compa- Ah.' said Éomer, as the memories of last night's events returned to him.

'I see you remember.' said Lothíriel, all traces of sweetness gone from her voice. 'My Lord, when you brought me from Gondor to marry me you swore that you would love me and only me. Does that mean anything to you now?'

'Loth, it was nothing, I –'

'Nothing, was it? Like our wedding vows? Or me?' interrupted Lothíriel, angrily. Éomer felt his own temper rise. All this shouting was most certainly not helping his headache.

'Stop being stupid. I told you it was nothing. She meant nothing to me.' stated Éomer.

'Ah, I see how it is going to be from now on.' said Lothíriel curtly. 'Good day.' She turned on her heel and stalked towards to the door.

'Lothíriel!' shouted Éomer after her. She ignored him and kept walking.

'Lothíriel!'

Éomer ran after her and grabbed her arm, unnecessarily hard. She faced him; her eyes blazed with anger and barely concealed pain.

'As your King, I expect you to face me when I talk to you!' he yelled.

'As your wife, I expect you to have some sort of morals!' she screamed back.

'What? How dare you!' yelped Éomer.

'Is this not a good time?' asked a voice cautiously. The warring couple turned to face the intruder. It was Éothain. He looked nervous and was hiding something behind his back.

'I am so very sorry, gentlemen, but I do not feel so very well. If you would excuse me?' Lothíriel took her chance and escaped, slamming the door behind her.

There was a silence as Éothain and Éomer faced each other.

'What do you want, Éothain?' sighed Éomer.

'I came to give you this.' said Éothain quietly. He held out a small, but perfectly made toy horse.

'What is this for?' Éomer asked, bewildered.

'You mean you don't know?' replied Éothain, shocked. 'Ah. Then I don't think I should tell you. What I mean, is that I think Lothíriel should tell you herself.'

'No, no, you must tell me! Is there something wrong with Lothíriel?' asked Éomer urgently, his eyes searching Éothain's face.

'Éomer. Lothíriel's having a baby.

TBC

N/A Thank you very much for reading! Please do leave a review, all is welcome!