"You seem worried. Is it for your family or the man that rides to save them?" Arwen kept a watchful eye on the princess. "He is a white horse on a green field. If you seek freedom, he may possess the power to give it."

"He himself is not free. The chains of responsibility bind him to a throne that he fears to take." Lothíriel watched the riders disappear into the city. "I worry for my family now and for Éomer in the future. In his manner I can see that he wishes to be a great king, but he has no notion of how it can come to pass."

Arwen placed a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder. "He will find that knowledge."

"Ci shor shi ei kaer col," Lothíriel whispered her wish for both Aragorn and Éomer. The kingdoms of men deserved great kings.

Forced confidence laced Arwen's voice. "Shor caer ci mar."

"Your Aragorn will need that aid as well." Lothíriel smiled and headed for the great hall. "But you still have much to learn before you can be his queen. Come, we will finish your burden this day."

-x-

The rangers led the riders towards the Eastfold. Timlin hoped to head off their quarry. "They will ride through the day after the orc sightings, but I fear that the lady and her young son will lack the stamina that a soldier could maintain."

"We will find them." Éomer moved his horse forward. And they did many hours later at dusk. Light was little, but the riders of the Riddermark could be heard from far off such were their numbers. Éomer blew the horn as Lothíriel instructed.

A ranger appeared before him. "Stop." The rider held up his hand. "Where do you ride for?"

Timlin called out to the rider by name. "We come at Lothíriel's bidding to lead the royal family of Dol Amroth."

"Where is the ranger we sent?" the Prince Amrothos appeared on horseback with his sister, nephew and guard.

"The princess commanded him to remain behind. He was sick from the hard ride. I return his horn." Éomer held the polished horn in his hand.

Amrothos was protective of his family. "How I do I know that you have not killed our messenger and turned Timlin here?"

"Your sister entrusted into my care a token, which she claimed you would know she would not have surrendered it to me under any circumstances beyond her own freewill." In his armor Éomer had no place to safely keep Lothíriel's precious gift. He pulled the sparkling blue jewel from beneath his armor. It hung at his neck out of place as so delicate against his battle armor.

Amrothos recognized the pendant instantly. "How fairs my sister?"

"She fears for her nephew and siblings, but not unnecessarily. You're sister is strong, Prince Amrothos." Éomer gave a second proof. He knew Lothíriel well enough to know her personality did not match other women. Her brother would know as much.

The prince nodded. "Then let us ride, we have far to go."

-x-

The daylight passed to night as Lothíriel found Gandalf to be right. Arwen learned in mere hours what Lothíriel had procured after years of searching through ancient records. "You have an amazing memory, Lady Arwen," Lothíriel complimented the elvish maiden, but her gaze again strayed to the doors opening to the king's courtyard.

"You look for them, even though you know the call would reach you long before the sight of them," Arwen pointed out.

With a small smile, Lothíriel nodded, but the horn was taken up only moments later. "Long signals, the search party returns. No enemies give chase," Lothíriel explained to Arwen.

"And yet," the wise elf answered, "you still wish to go to them." She smiled. "Go, I shall be here, when you return."

Sparing no words for the lady elf, Lothíriel abandoned the hall. The courtyard had filled with horses by the time she reached them. The palace was alive with activity. Lothíriel caught sight of her brother and sister-in-law before she realized that Éomer was missing for the giant of a man was not easily overlooked.

"Where is the king?" she demanded of the nearest rider.

The rider seemed surprised by her harsh tone. "He brings up the rear. The young prince fell and he returned to save the boy."

Lothíriel ran between the horses and men to the entrance leading into the city. Even through all the noise around her she could hear her shallow breathing and soft heartbeat. Her eyes looked into the night searching for a proud king and a brave young prince. She caught sight of him from a distance. The king's white horse glowed against the darkness.

He reached the courtyard and stopped just short of where Lothíriel stood. He did not see her until he was upon her. "My lady," he spoke down to her surprised.

In front of him on Firefoot rode her nephew. The young boy reached out to Lothíriel. "Aunt Lothie."

"Are you alright?" she asked the boy though her gaze drifted to the king instead.

The prince answered though. "I was shot in the leg. This wild rider saved me."

Reaching for him, Lothíriel lifted her nephew down taking a moment to look at his leg, she chastised him. "Your rescuer is the King of the Horselords."

"Is that why you gave him grandmother's necklace, aunt?" The boy looked up at her innocently. "Mother said it is your duty and privilege to protect the kings of men."

Lothíriel glanced up at the Horselord, but looked away again when she found his intensity already on her. "No man can watch his own back. What is the first rule of being a prince of men?"

"Not for me, but for my people," the prince answered.

"Come, the warden will take a look at your leg." She lifted her nephew. Before she carried him away to the houses of healing, she looked up to the Horse King. "Thank you." She met his gaze head on, showing him how truly grateful she was.

The night dragged on as Lothíriel first saw to her nephew then the riders and rangers that had been injured in the attacks on their return to the city. When the uncared for injured no longer outnumbered the caretakers, she was sent away. She was supposed to sleep, but the idea did not appeal to her. She wondered the halls unable to find a balance.

"Do you not sleep, princess?" Éomer practically demanded of her when their paths crossed.

"Is it your mood that is foul or your temper, Horselord?" Lothíriel adopted his tone. She sounded exhausted, but the fire in her eyes could not be diminished by fatigue.

Éomer sighed and leaned his form against the corridor's stonewall. "You don't let anyone get away with weakness, do you Lady Lothíriel?"

"You are a king."

"And kings aren't allowed to have weaknesses," Éomer interrupted aware that he was taking his frustration out on her.

But Lothíriel stood her ground against him. "A king needs to be aware of where his weaknesses lie. Great kings are not without faults. They just know what they are."

Éomer took in the woman before him. She was tall for a woman, but still much shorter than him. Her dark hair was offset by the brilliance of her pale grey eyes. "You know a great deal about kings." He faltered in front of her then recalled her statement against weakness. "But you come from a long line of princes. Your forefather was named Prince of Dol Amroth by Elendil himself."

"Amrothos talks too much."

The king nodded. "I have not your history. My sister and I are orphans. If not for Théoden's kindness, we would not be here." He was nonspecific as to what here was. "And now I am the first of my line. I have no one to turn to."

"There is no one you trust?" she asked realizing that Éomer was carrying his burden alone. Walking over to him she assessed his defensive posture. Her arm was almost fully extended but she placed a hand on his shoulder. "You are strong, master of the mark, but even your shoulders cannot uphold Rohan on their own."

Éomer brushed her hand from his shoulder. It irritated him that she knew so much more about being king than he did. "You are a student of the kings, but you can only see their victories and failures through the eyes of the future. You were not there. Neither was I. We don't know if a great king was brave or cowardice." With one last look at the princess, Éomer turned from her and headed back down the hall.

"Are all men of Rohan so heartless? Or is it just their king who feels nothing?" Lothíriel spoke out of anger and she regretted it when Éomer turned his intense, now angry, eyes on her, but she didn't back down.

He headed back down the hall toward her until she had to crane her neck to look up at him. "Men of Rohan are many things. They are ferocious, brave and loyal. To you we may seem barbarians, but my men care for their country, their women and each other."

"And you, Lord Éomer?" Lothíriel had to ask; she had to finish what she started.

His gaze met hers and neither looked away. "I want stability for the Riddermark."

Lothíriel turned from him. "I suppose it is selfish of me to expect you to think as I do."

"What are you speaking of?" Éomer's eyes followed her movements. She held her head high, but her soft careful steps reminded Éomer more of a hunter than a court maiden. It dawned on him. "I shouldn't have kissed you."

"No, you shouldn't have." She affirmed glancing back at him, but he didn't appear apologetic. "I wasn't attempting to force you."

"I did not think you were trying to seduce me, princess." Éomer smirked.

Lothíriel spun on her heel and raised her hand to slap the king. Only his quick reflexes saved him. Éomer hadn't expected her to react so harshly. With her hand captured, Lothíriel glared. "And so I ask again, do you feel anything for anyone?"

He leaned down to hear her and she pressed her lips to his cheek, softly, so near his mouth that her lips brushed the corner of his. "Do you feel this?" she asked, her lips brushing against his skin with each word.

Éomer took his free hand and wrapped it around her arm. He turned them to the nearest wall. Her back met the cold stone. "Lothíriel, I will not again take from you what I stole. But I can feel you. That kiss though not advisable took away my burdens for that moment." He looked down at her surprised expression. "But then my duties returned and with additions."

"Why did you offer to save my nephew?" Lothíriel's eyes flickered between his. "Why risk it?"

"You wanted him safe. He's safe." He spoke with finality, but did not move.

Lothíriel took a deep breath and her chest brushed against him. "That is not an answer. Why, Éomer?"

"He is an heir." Her use of his name shocked an honest answer out of him. Then he was forced to explain. "My cousin, Théodred, was killed in battle. My company was sent out to aid them. We found him alive, but he died from his wounds."

"That was not your fault." She put the hand from her captured arm onto his bicep.

Éomer couldn't look at her. "He was Théoden's heir. He should be here now. I am a Marshall, not a king."

"You are both and you will be a greater king, because you were a Marshall first." Lothíriel traced the outline of his features with her eyes. The master of the mark was a handsome man behind his angry expression. "I am sorry for your cousin's fall, but I am glad that you are here."

He knew she was watching him, but he didn't look at her. "He would have been a great king. Théodred was gentle and kind."

"You don't know what kind of king he would be and it doesn't matter. You are Rohan's king." She finally dropped her hands and Éomer was forced to release her as he stepped back.

She walked away from him, but he called after her, "Lothíriel." Though she paused she did not turn around. "Good night."