In that hour Lúthien came, and standing upon the bridge that led to Sauron's isle she sang a song that no walls of stone could hinder. Beren heard, and he thought that he dreamed; for the stars shone above him, and in the trees nightingales were singing.

- Of Beren and Lúthien

Chapter 9

The sound of singing and laughter came, alarming Éomer and Wulfgar at last, and both of them stood up from the narrow corridor where they had sat waiting. Wulfgar was one of the Marshal's own riders, as there was no way he could get Théodred involved in what he was about to do. The Prince had to keep up the diplomatic relationship... but Wulfgar, hearing of what had transpired, was more than happy to come and act as his second. After all, he was a man of the Mark.

As Éomer loosened his sword in its sheath, he glanced at the man beside himself, "You do realise that no matter what happens next, only one thing is for sure? We are going to cause so much trouble."

Wulfgar smiled darkly.

"Oh, I know, my lord. If that were a problem I wouldn't have come", he answered and they shared a look of two determined men.

"You're not scared you'll have to finish what I've started?" Éomer made sure nonetheless, and that brought a grin to the other rider's face.

"Are you then planning on losing this fight?" he asked back.

"No. I'm going to kill that pig of a man, and at this point I don't even care what happens to me because of that", growled the Marshal. The other man nodded emphatically at that. Truly, a Rohirric agreement of honour was a beautiful thing.

And then the noises were getting closer and the two of them stepped out into the open of the street, located closer to the end of the sixth level of the city but far enough from the gate as to not alarm the guards.

He had known his challenge would not be taken well. When he had announced it, Galdegir had turned pale: obviously he had not expected his little scheme to go that far. But then the Steward had spoken out, and his resentment had mingled with anger. He had demanded the Marshal take back his words, but Éomer had stood his ground and informed all present that the next time he'd see Galdegir, it would be with his sword. Théodred had not said anything, knowing his cousin well enough to realise that no words would reach him now. His lack of interference had not pleased the Steward at all, as if he expected the Prince to somehow control his kinsman, and in cold voice he had spoken: "I hereby banish you from this city, Lord Marshal. I expect you to leave tomorrow."

With that the Steward had taken his leave... and Galdegir had grinned at the Marshal and then followed out. Utterly frustrated, Théodred had ordered his cousin to leave the gathering, and the Prince himself had gone to salvage what he could.

But Éomer had not left to cool off his emotions. No, he had swiftly made his way to the barracks, where he had found Wulfgar, and asked the man to accompany him.

The Steward could command him all he wanted, but this barbarian had had enough.

And now as he and Wulfgar stepped out of shadows and took control of that street Galdegir and few of his friends were travelling on their way to whatever nightly entertainment they were seeking. The sight of the two Riders had them freezing where they stood.

"I thought the Steward had you banished already, savage", Galdegir said, which made his friends snigger.

"Oh, he did", said the Marshal lightly, keeping his eyes on the face of that hateful man, "but I did not say I would leave before I had skinned you alive."

His words appeared to unnerve the young lord and he looked slightly paler. He didn't seem quite able to meet the unfaltering glare of the tall Rohir. He glanced about himself and his four friends.

"There's just the two of you! What can you do?" he asked defiantly, and all five of them pulled out knives. At the sight of those weapons the Marshal couldn't but snort. He didn't unsheathe his sword more than couple inches and neither did Wulfgar, but the hiss of metal against leather was audible in the quiet of the night.

"Aye, there's two of us... but neither of us are armed with knitting needles", said Éomer with a deceiving calm that promised nearing violence. "Tell me, have you ever even taken part in a battle?"

At that, two of Galdegir's friends deserted the scene. They ran without looking back, but the Marshal had no interest in them anyway, even though a good whipping could probably do well for the both, if they were at all like Galdegir himself.

"I swear, it was just joke. I didn't mean anything!" tried the young lord. He was starting to look worried now.

"Your lies are about as convincing as they were before, and I still owe you for what happened the last time I saw you", Éomer snorted and glared at the Gondorian.

"My father -" Galdegir just about managed, but the Marshal did not let him finish.

"Is not here to save you. Now, for once in your life act like a man!"

Wulfgar took his cue and tossed a spare sword to the feet of the young lord. If possible, Galdegir's face became even paler now. For a moment he looked like he might run away like his two friends, but eventually he picked up the sword from ground. With both hands, he lifted it up by the hilt.

The first stroke of sword was but a touch. The cold steel of Gúthwinë licked the blade of Galdegir's sword, and Éomer could feel the startle of the other man as he flinched at the contact. As he brought the swords together again, his expression twisted into a snarl, thirsty for the blood of this man... he couldn't even remember when he had last fought so angry.

But as they kept exchanging blows, he could soon see that this was not Galdegir's first swordfight. He had received lessons at the very least, although it was quite clear he had never put his skills in actual use; indeed, his movements were reminiscent of a swordsmaster performing when he was showing off his skills to an audience – graceful perhaps, but of little use in an actual fight.

And for Éomer sword had never been a tool of performance. When he attacked, he had but one purpose: to kill, and do it quickly.

So it did not take long for him to drive his opponent into a corner, and each blow he charged with more of his anger and loathing for this rat. When their blades locked, Galdegir pulled out his knife again and would have driven it into the neck of the Marshal, but he saw the attack coming, and stopped it by grabbing the lord's hand and twisting his wrist.

He then drove his forehead into Galdegir's already hurt nose. With a cry, the young lord fell... and the Rohir abandoned his sword, and instead when he dropped on his knees he let his fists sing. Somehow, it was far more satisfying to do it this way... Galdegir cried and moaned, and there was blood all over his face, and he wasn't even trying to fight back anymore...

But then arms grabbed him from behind for the second time that night. And like the last time, it was Théodred and Boromir who tore him away from the man he'd have killed.

"Let me go!" growled the Marshal and struggled against the strength of two men, but their grips were unfaltering.

"As your Prince I order you to stop!" Théodred barked, which finally pierced through the haze of his mad anger. His cousin's eyes were blazing, "Have you lost your mind?"

"Yes, I have, and I was quite happy losing it!" Éomer snapped back. Galdegir was wailing on the ground, and one of his friends had dared to come close and take a look at the beaten and battered nobleman.

"And Wulfgar, what on earth were you thinking when you not only allowed this to happen but also helped out?" Théodred demanded. However, the other culprit seemed just as unrepentant as his Marshal.

"My Prince, I am but a rider and it is not my place to disallow anything Lord Éomer decides to do. In fact, I considered it not only my duty but also an honour to help him", he just said, sounding calmer than anyone participating this scene. His words had Théodred moaning in frustration.

"You are both madmen!" he announced, with just a hint of helplessness now.

"Lord Marshal, have you any idea of what would happen if you killed this man?" Boromir put in. "I know he's scum but you do not want a blood feud between yourself and his father!"

The Rohir forced back his anger and tried to calm down. Hard it was, but he couldn't just shout his head off at his prince and the captain.

"And what do you suppose the Lord Steward will say when he hears you beat up the son of his good friend? I told you to get out and calm down!" Théodred said angrily.

"Speaking of which, I suggest you two – and that friend of Marshal's over there – get out of here while you still can. Someone has probably already made an alarm of this bedlam. I'll stay and take care of everything", Boromir said carefully. He picked up Éomer's sword from the ground but looked slightly hesitant when he offered it back, as if he expected the younger man continue his rampage. But to their shared relief, the Marshal just sheathed his sword once more. He did it with regret, though, as he had not meant to leave this place before he had taken Galdegir's life.

"The captain speaks wisely. We will take our leave now", said the Prince firmly and gave his cousin a glare. He pulled Éomer by his arm after himself and growled angrily when his disobedient cousin gave Galdegir a parting kick. Wulfgar followed them in silence.

When they were a shout's distance from the scene, Théodred spoke at last.

"You are a complete idiot and I would do well if I killed you right here", he announced. "How do you suppose the Steward will now think of a marriage between any man of Rohan? Or the Princess Lothíriel's father? By living up to your challenge you've just proved right all their prejudices about us being little else than violent barbarians!"

"So I should just have sit back then? Let that man spill his filth and allow it to go not only unnoticed but also unpunished? One has to wonder who is the true barbarian here!" Éomer shot back sharply.

"It's not your call to make!" Théodred snapped. "You're not the authority here! This is not Rohan!"

"Well, maybe this should be, if men can assault and dishonour women without no one doing anything about it just because of their supposedly great and mighty lineage!" answered the Marshal angrily.

"I know it's wrong, but what would you say if Lord Denethor came to your Hall and acted there with no respect for our ways and rules? If you wanted this Galdegir punished you should have let the Steward deal with it! Cousin, we do not need conflicts like these between ourselves, not now!" scowled the Prince. "Your princess is not worth this!"

That almost had Éomer punching his own cousin. He stopped and glared icily at the older man.

"She is. She is worth the world, and I would beat up all the men in the world for her. And you can never convince me I did wrong in thrashing that pig!" he hissed.

At last Théodred realised he was fighting a lost cause. He sighed and shook his head and seemed to somehow grow smaller as his anger left him.

"Fine. If that's what you think, then I'll say no more. But know that Father will hear everything that happened here, and you will have to listen to him, if you won't listen to me", he said tiredly.

By then they were halfway to the Citadel and Théodred looked like he'd have continued speaking, but it was that moment their way was cut.

There were ten men there blocking the road, all armed and some of them bearing torches. The leader of them was tall, almost of equal height with the Marshal, and he had the looks of high Númenoréan descent which Éomer already recognised. His dark hair was greying however, so he was not a young man by any means... but stern he looked, and the bite of age had not got a hold of him. Judging by his clothing he could only be a lord of Gondor. There was something familiar about the face of the man, though Éomer could not tell where he had met him before.

But then his eyes fell on a younger man, who was standing just by the elbow of this stern-faced lord, and recognised him as one of Galdegir's friends. He must have run for help.

"Where is my son?" barked the man in lead. His voice was cold and hard. "What have you done with him?"

"Your son will be quite fine, lord. Though he was bruised I deem the most injury he received was to his ego", Prince Théodred said. There was something tight about his tone and Éomer knew his cousin well enough to understand the older man was sensing trouble.

"How dare you? How dare you savages attack a lord of his standing? Do you even understand who I am?" asked the lord, his eyes blazing bright with anger.

"Oh, it took very little daring, my lord. It was a high time someone taught manners to your precious son", snapped the Marshal, which instantly earned him a glare from his cousin. That look very clearly spoke let me handle this.

But the lord's eyes had already flashed to Éomer, and he noticed the man's eyes were very dark instead of the usual grey you saw among these descendants of the Men of the West. He met the gaze with one of his own; he had yet to meet the man whose glare he couldn't stand.

"So this is the savage who has assaulted and insulted my son", declared Galdegir's father, staring hard at the Rohir as if hoping to bend him to his will.

"Lord, that word eventually loses it's meaning if you keep repeating it. You may even find it becomes an omen", Théodred said calmly. "So I would not toss it around quite so generously."

He frowned then, "And you would do well to remember that you are talking with members of the House of Eorl. If my cousin here has committed any misgivings, you are not the one to deal with them. That matter is entirely between myself and the Lord Denethor, whom I intend to seek presently to clear out this mess. I assure you all disciplinary actions necessary will be taken."

However, his words did not have much of an effect on the man before them. If possible, his features hardened even more.

"I would not care even if you were the sons of the King of Númenor. No one touches my son and walks away unpunished", he announced clearly. "But out of respect for you and your King, Prince, you may take your leave now. You need not suffer for the crimes of your cousin."

Théodred's face became a grimace that held something determined. He glared at the Gondorian lord before them.

"So you expect me to abandon my kinsman to your mercy? I suggest you tread very carefully now, lord. What you would do is not a slight Eorl's sons would forget. A Marshal of the Mark and the sister-son of Théoden King is not your to punish, especially not in unlawful ways!"

"Then you will suffer the consequences as well", said Galdegir's father and his men around him tensed in a way Éomer knew for preparing for a battle. Here in the very vicinity of the Citadel! Almost instinctively, the three Riders fell into a defensive line.

He glanced at his cousin, who had his hand on a sword now too, "Théodred, get gone. I won't have you in harm's way because of what I've done!"

"And leave you and Wulfgar to the mercy of that man? Don't be ridiculous!" barked the Prince.

"You're the Prince, Théodred – you're far more important than I am, you need to -" he started, but then appeared the last person probably all of them had expected to see.

From the shadows, Princess Lothíriel appeared, cloaked and alone. All others were no doubt surprised to see her here at this time of night, but Éomer knew she had ways of sneaking out of her father's house. Speaking of Prince Imrahil's palace of a home, he only now took notice that they couldn't be far from the said place... she had probably meant to come and look for him, and found him on this dire moment.

"This is quite enough!" she announced in a clear voice fit for a queen. "Are you lot of idiots actually meaning to fight here, on the very gate of my father's house?"

"Princess Lothíriel", said Galdegir's father with emphasised patience and just a hint of belittlement, "this does not concern you. Leave now while you still can, and let the men handle the matter."

She scoffed and quite courageously stopped in the between of two parties. She stood there as if thinking no weapon could harm her, and Éomer could but stare at her in a mixture of horror and disbelief.

"Oh, so you mean I should let you men in your great wisdom get each other killed and potentially start a war between Gondor and Rohan?" she snapped. "Is your injured pride truly worth letting our world burn? I can't imagine greater folly!"

Now the Marshal's horror and disbelief was starting to turn into admiration. Well, he had known she was an extraordinary lady.

"Princess, if you will not agree to leave, I can have you removed", said the Gondorian lord threateningly. That had Éomer snarling and he might have attacked right then, but Lothíriel lifted up her hand as if she had known his thoughts and intention. She stood tall and straight and showed no sign of being scared.

"You would do well to remember we are a shout's distance from my father's house, Lord Ocharnil. I only need to scream and his men will flood this place, and for all your cunning words I don't expect even you can explain adequately to my uncle and father why you decided to assault the Princess of Dol Amroth!"

Galdegir's father glared at her for a long quiet moment, but eventually he did realise there was no way around this. He said no word to them, but instead gave some muffled orders to his men, and they moved aside to make way.

"Wonderful. I'm glad to see for all your manliness you can still think clearly", Lothíriel scoffed. She glanced over her shoulder to the three Rohirs, all of whom stood silent and awed. "Now, if you would come along, my lords of Rohan. I'm sure the Steward is expecting to hear of all this."

Quietly they moved forward, and Éomer suspected all present had been robbed of their voices. Well, except for Lothíriel at least... and Ocharnil too. For as they were passing him by, he sneered.

"How does it feel then, to be saved by a woman?" he asked.

But Lothíriel laughed.

"A woman? Is that supposed to be an insult? You seem to forget that the same woman stopped you", she snorted. Rolling her eyes, she went forward, "Men and their manliness! I swear, some day you're going to get us all killed..."

The night was late already when Father came to check on her. Lothíriel was seated by the window, staring out: she had not even taken off her fine gown, and the tea Father had ordered to be made for her sat forgotten on a table next to her.

"Daughter", he called her softly, distracting her from the thoughts she had wandered in. The worried look on his face had still not subsided. He asked, "How do you feel?"

"I... I don't know", she said, her voice quiet and small. She felt like a child, scared and helpless. All strength and courage had left her long since, and now she even wondered how she had dared something like that... set herself between two groups of armed men ready to fight.

From there they had gone up to the Citadel, and her uncle had already heard of the duel that had taken place against his orders. He had been furious of course and demanded to talk with the Prince Théodred and Éomer right away. As for Lothíriel, he had instantly sent her home, because apparently she had no business taking part in any of this. Escorted by two guards she had no choice but to obey, and getting home Father had been quite amazed to see her, as he had thought she was in bed already. But all the excitement of the evening had distracted him from the fact that she had sneaked out... instead, he had hurried up to the Citadel to see what was afoot.

Upon his return he had found her waiting for news. So he told her that the Rohirrim had been ordered to leave the city this very night. And Éomer had been forbidden from ever returning.

Now he had come to see her again and obviously was somewhat dismayed by the fact that she was still up. Father sighed and he took a chair, which he placed opposite her. He sat down and gently picked up her hand.

"You know your uncle had no other choice. He had to banish the Marshal permanently... no matter what kind of a man he is, Galdegir is of very high birth, and his father is a powerful man", he said gently. "I know what you think of them, but objectively it was a good thing the Marshal did not manage to kill Galdegir."

"All the world would be happier if he had succeeded", Lothíriel said darkly. She looked at him, "Can't you do anything, Father?"

"It seems this goes beyond my power. I don't think Denethor would even listen to me if I tried to talk of it with him", he answered and shook his head. "What you did was very brave, daughter. But it was also very dangerous, and I believe you sit there only because Ocharnil is not yet powerful enough to openly go against me."

She frowned and a feeling of doubt filled her heart.

"What do you mean, Father?" she asked. Her father looked very serious now.

"Something I haven't told you before is that... well, Lord Ocharnil is someone very influential, but his power is not entirely tied into his status. Since what Galdegir tried to do to you last year, I have investigated him in secrecy, and though I can't really prove anything, it seems to me that Ocharnil has his fingers in much more than an honourable man should. He's not a good person, Lothíriel... and all the shadier folk you might find in the lower levels of the city fear him", he explained quietly.

Lothíriel was certainly feeling very troubled now.

"So he's some kind of a criminal overlord then?" she asked, which made him wince.

"I wouldn't use that expression, though it perhaps isn't so far from the truth", Father answered.

"Why haven't you said anything to uncle? We can't have men like that in our city!" she said heatedly.

"Dear child, you know how Denethor is. He hardly believes what he hasn't witnessed with his own eyes. And he has long been friends with Lord Ocharnil's family – first with his father and now with the man himself. Your uncle isn't going to raise a hand against Ocharnil, not unless the evidence was absolutely overwhelming. And men like Ocharnil never leave traces", Father said. He too was now frowning deeply. He looked up at her then, "Had you known this beforehand, would you still have gone between him and the Marshal?"

"I would", Lothíriel said, her voice strong and determined. "I... well, I'd be scared, but Éomer is worth it."

"That is what bravery is, dear daughter – doing what you think is right even if you're scared."

Father considered her hands in silence for a while, but eventually he spoke again. When he did, there was something resigned about his voice, "You really do love that man."

"Yes, Father. I do love him... and I want to spend my life with him", she said softly, hoping that he might see her how very deeply she meant these words. The look on his face was sad.

"Perhaps... perhaps I have judged this matter wrongly", he allowed at last, in a voice barely audible. "Daughter, you do understand that none of it was to make you unhappy? That I did not reject his proposal just out of spite?"

"I know that, and I'm not angry with you. I just wish you had understood this earlier", Lothíriel said. Her father cast down his eyes and looked unhappy.

"But I did not", he said at length, "not before seeing how very much it hurt you, and how you still refused to give in."

He looked at her then, "Just like your mother would have refused surrender. I suppose you were right in saying she wouldn't have approved of any of this."

Even in this situation, Lothíriel found herself smiling. Something in her heart unclenched and was replaced by a kind of relief, though that seemed odd when Éomer was banished. She had not thought Father would ever see her point of view, yet at last he did. If only it could have come sooner!

However, his face still held but that troubled look.

"Your uncle is not going to agree, though. Not after what happened", he said. "Perhaps, if the Marshal had consented to apologise, we could have put this night behind ourselves. But I must say I do not blame him for not giving in. If it is true what he said of Galdegir, I wish I could have delivered those blows myself. Ironically enough, you would be the most safe now if you went with the Lord Marshal to Rohan, where none of Ocharnil's webs can reach you."

"So there's nothing to be done then? I must see Éomer gone once again?" she asked sadly.

"It could be for the better, for now at least. Let the dust settle down a bit, and your uncle abate", Father answered at length.

"But what if he doesn't? He was so angry..." Lothíriel mumbled. Tears burned her eyes now and her father saw that; he reached over to give her a hug.

"Have faith, my child", he murmured and rubbed her back gently.

The scene was then interrupted, for on the door there was a knock. At Lothíriel's call a guard from outside peeked in. He said, "My lord, the Lord Marshal of Rohan is outside and asking to see your daughter."

For one moment that was painfully long Lothíriel was convinced that Father would order the guard to tell Éomer to leave. Hesitation was there on his face indeed, but at last he sighed.

"Very well", he said softly. "Let us go and see the man."

Being someone who was used to having calls to arms on a very short notice, it hadn't taken long for Éomer to fetch his armour, pull it on, bag his saddlebag, and get going. He knew the moment of departure would come soon, but he simply couldn't leave the city without telling goodbye to Lothíriel. These were not the circumstances he had hoped to do that, and even more uncertain it was if he should ever be able to return... but that was a thought he couldn't let take a hold of him.

So, as soon as he was ready, he rode down to the house of Prince Imrahil. Chances were the man had even less inclination to listen to him now than before. Perhaps Théodred did not have it entirely wrong... perhaps his chief achievement had been proving he was just the sort of savage Rohirrim were believed to be.

But he pushed away those thoughts, and as calmly and politely he could he announced his business at the gate of the house of Prince of Dol Amroth... and to his surprise, his wish was granted.

When Lothíriel appeared at the doorway, Éomer became acutely aware of how much he wanted to stay – and how difficult it was to leave her all over again. And how little there was now hope of a reunion, as he had been banished for ever... he couldn't think of that for long however, as Prince Imrahil himself stood there too, and the Marshal wondered what had earned him this. What had made the man change his mind?

Pondering that became irrelevant then, for Lothíriel was striding towards him, and he dismounted. He caught her in his arms and buried his face in her hair for one glorious instance.

"My dearest Princess", he uttered at last, though his voice was weak, "I have come to say goodbye to you."

"Oh, you insane man!" she exclaimed. "Why did you have to do that? Why did you go after Galdegir?"

"How was I supposed to let him go unpunished again? I will not suffer anyone dishonouring you!" he told her heatedly. Lothíriel didn't answer, but instead looked at him in silence. He sighed, "I'm sorry if I have upset you. Just... you need to understand that you are more precious to me than anything in this world."

"I do know that, beloved", she said softly and looked down. "For I feel the same for you."

She buried her face against his armour-clad shoulder, and again he held her tight. Briefly his eyes met Imrahil's; the Prince stood quiet and unmoving at the doorway and Éomer could not read the expression on the man's face. Still, he had let this scene go on this long, so perhaps...

That line of thought was broken by Lothíriel slightly pulling back.

"It seems like the fates will only ever take you away from me", she murmured sorrowfully, her eyes full of tears she wouldn't let fall. Gently, he cradled her face between his hands.

"I do not believe that our fates are so set – I have faith that we can make them ourselves. And I am convinced that even if my road is parted from yours for now, it will lead back to you... it will always lead back to you", he promised to her.

A soft cry parted from her lips and at last she kissed him, there on the front of her father. Éomer thought he heard a gasp of shock, but Lothíriel's kiss was a more pressing matter, and he couldn't but answer it... for who knew when he'd be able to do this again?

Who knew when she'd be in his arms once more?

When the kiss ended, he rested his forehead against hers, though from the direction of the Citadel he already heard the horsemen approaching... and soon he'd have to let go of her.

"You will endure?" he asked softly, his fingers in her hair.

"I..." she mumbled, shivering as she spoke.

"Please. Promise me that you will endure. No matter what happens", Éomer pleaded and lifted her face so that he could see her eyes.

"... I will", she swore, and he managed to give her a smile. He kissed her again, but only very briefly. Time was running out.

"You're strong", he told her, wishing she would believe him.

"I hope that's true. Just... how long will you be gone this time? When will I see you again?" she murmured, holding on tight to him.

"Dearest, I wish I knew that. But I promise I will return to you again. Wait for me, will you?" he murmured.

"I always do", Lothíriel murmured gently. "Stay safe, my beloved horselord."

A/N: I must say, the story took kind of an unexpected turn here. I really didn't expect to Galdegir's family relations to turn out like that, and I did consider and reconsider whether making his father this crime boss kind of type would be a too modern thing. But then why couldn't that sort of thing take place even in Gondor? These are supposedly the years of twilight and decay, so I'd think someone ruthless and powerful enough could try and use it to his own advantage. I couldn't really resist the chance of including a bit of that kind of intrigue in the story. So, Éomer didn't really have a clear idea of what he was doing when challenging Galdegir, because if Ocharnil can help it somehow there should be hell to pay. From that point of view it's probably good thing our hot-headed Marshal is leaving the city for now.

Lothíriel's line "A woman? Is that supposed to be an insult?" is far too clever and awesome to be my own intention. Indeed it is a (slightly modified) quote from George R. R. Martin's character Daenerys Targaryen from The Song of Ice and Fire. I'm ridiculously attached to that line and couldn't resist the temptation of using it here.

Still, it's of little use that Imrahil has somewhat relented, because Denethor is now more set than ever.

As usual, I am thankful for all reviews! Hopefully you continue to enjoy this story!

TheCountessCorpse - Well, I suppose that wasn't really the complete destruction, but Galdegir did get some of what he deserved!

Kiiimberly - That he certainly is. But he also has a powerful father.

Sandy-wmd - Yes, and Galdegir is much more used to this kind of intrigue and he's good at turning the good light on himself. Éomer, having been raised as an honest man who stands by his words, has never really been in the situation like this before. And boy, does it show.

Mellon - I should say the whole thing about the two not being able to marry is the driving conflict of the story. So there wouldn't be much to say if it was quickly and easily resolved.

Ranger - You really do have an extreme black-and-white view of people and their morals and motivations, don't you?