Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of The Rings.

Éomer sat on the steps of Edoras, his head in his hands.

How could I have been so stupid? She's pregnant. Oh Eru. I'm going to be a Father. I should be leaping for joy, but all I think is how much a failure of a husband I am. How far along is she? Shouldn't I have noticed?

Éomer rubbed his stubble, thinking hard. His green eyes suddenly widened and he froze. His whole body tensed and his hands gripped his breeches so hard his knuckles turned white.

I don't know. I haven't noticed because I haven't been with her. I've been off wenching and riding and being holed up with advisors and…and…

"Oh Eru. The war seems to have made off with all your integrity."

Éomer whirled around to stare at the intruder. Elanor, Eothain's wife stood behind him, one hand on her hip, her posture suggesting displeasure. But her voice was soft, and her eyes showed only sympathy.

Éomer turned back around.

"What is going on?" she asked, regarding his filthy state.

Her only reply was a deep, frustrated sigh.

"Lothíriel loves you, Éomer. But you've been drifting away from her and she doesn't know what to do. It's been weeks since you've slept in the same bed…"

Éomer flinched at this, and Elanor's sharp eyes didn't fail to miss it.

"…Yes, you thought she wouldn't mind. First, you would sleep in the other chamber for a night, then two. When you moved all of your things next door she cried herself to sleep for two weeks. She doesn't understand what she has done wrong, Éomer. She only wants your love."

"I-I… It's none of your business!" growled Éomer angrily, wiping his eyes furiously. "You know nothing… you don't understand… Just take yourself away!"

Elanor crept away, satisfied that he would behave from now on.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Éomer woke early. He had debated sleeping in the same room as his Queen, but some sixth sense warned him it could be dangerous. He resolved to take everything slowly with his wife, and he approached her carefully.

"My Lady, would you like to accompany me for a walk?" he asked politely, secretly expecting her to slap him round the face and walk off. Which he probably deserved, he thought bitterly, but a small wry thought made the point that his pride wouldn't take it that well.

She looked sadly at him.

"It's been a long time since you called me My Lady." She said in a small voice. "My name, to my husband I should hope, is Lothíriel."

Lothíriel rose regally from the table. Éomer cursed under his breath and followed her.

They made their way out of the hall, stepping into the cold sunshine. Éomer leapt out his skin when a small, white hand encircled his elbow. Lothíriel tried to hide it but Éomer didn't miss her face crumpling. Shame overtook him and he opened his mouth to apologise.

"Oh Loth, I-"

"Keep your mouth closed, please? It makes it easier." She interrupted, quelling him with a sharp look.

Éomer involuntarily growled at this. Lothíriel shot him a quick look of shock, followed by one of quiet amusement. Éomer, with obvious difficulty, wrestled with his pride and, finally, he grinned. His muscles felt stiff and he realised how serious he had been over the past few weeks.

"Can I speak?" he asked, wryly as they made their way, subconsciously, to the barrows behind Medusaled.

"That depends. Will you make a complete fool of yourself?" Lothíriel answered, muttering something under her breath.

"What was that?" Éomer asked, bewildered.

"I said, well, you must accept, you haven't really…eh…loved me in the past month."

There was a slithering noise out of the long grass to the couple followed by a twang. Éomer reacted out of dangerous habit and threw his wife to the ground and covering her with his body, narrowly missing the bear trap that sprung out of the bushes. The net collapsed harmlessly over their heads. The only sound for a few minutes was their heavy breathing.

"Lothíriel? Are you alright?" Éomer asked tentatively, suddenly realising the close proximity of their bodies. I hope she doesn't mind…

"Can we find somewhere safer?" she asked quietly.

She made to get up and with true Rohír stupidity, Éomer turned to his wife and swept her up into his arms.

"Éomer! Put me down! Put me down!" Lothíriel screeched and began to pound him with her fists.

Éomer panicked, wondering if he was making things worse. But a small, reassuring though crept into his head:

I think, in this situation, I would get too frustrated with taking my marriage slowly and only make more problems for myself. Anyway, I'm enjoying having her here far too much.

So Éomer just winked and held her closer. After a while her shouts subsided and he looked down to see her staring up at him, and mixture of fear, love and anger on her face.

"You are a complete Orc, you know that?" she hissed at him. He just smiled at her and gently laid her on the grass, plucking a crocus from the plant behind him and tucking it behind her ear. She looked up at him, a tiny flicker of hope in her eyes.

Channelling his reckless ancestors, Éomer crushed his lips to hers, one hand on her belly, and smiled.

TBC

I apologise profusely for not updating, but here it is. Thanks to all who reviewed- it truly is the best thing ever. I will try to update more often!