The wedding festivities began that night with a banquet. Lothíriel looked up the final details in one of the enclosed gardens. She expected the day to pass in peace, but as she searched the scrolls she continued to find a problem within the tradition. Never before had a high lady of Gondor given her position away to another. Then again the highest lady of Gondor had always been a queen or lady steward.

She had set a scroll down in irritation when Éomer appeared around a corner with two apples in one of his hands. "Every time I see you you're showing another side of how ladylike Princesses of Gondor must be."

"I only wish I had the time to battle wits with you, King of the Mark, but I have more pressing matters." Lothíriel's eyes returned to the scroll in her hand. Her sigh was heavy with a burden that Éomer would never understand.

But he didn't need to. Crossing the small garden, Éomer took the scroll from her hands. She resisted but not with any strength. In her hand he placed one of the apples and wrapped both her hands around the shiny red fruit. "Perhaps you have time for a small break." It was not a question. He was commanding her to take a break.

"One moment you are kind then next you turn into a demanding king." She smiled softly at the Horselord. "You have the makings of a brave king if you're willing to command a Princess of the House of Dol Amroth."

"No man would seek to command you, lady." Éomer bit into his apple then smiled.

Lothíriel focused on the apple in her hands. She looked it over for impurities, but found only the shinning red flesh staring back at her. "You are two people, Lord Éomer. One smiles and jokes as he cares for his sister and talks with his men. The other is hard. War has overcome him. No smile calms his face." She reached up and barely brushed her fingers over his jaw.

Taking a deep breath, he relaxed his jaw. "I am neither of these men you speak of. I cannot always be the grinning brother. The warrior will not be banished for without him my people have no hope of surviving."

"You mistake me, Master of the Mark; I am not chastising the warrior. He is as much a part of you as the brother. Without his half, you would not be the Éomer you are. I merely find your sides to be more complex than I expected." Lothíriel suddenly pulled her hand from his face. Biting into her own apple, Lothíriel smiled. "Thank you."

She smiled at him as she picked up the scroll he'd cast aside. "Did I help?" He seemed skeptical.

"Very, I think I understand how to divide one piece from the other." She stood.

Éomer frowned. "You're not talking of my duality. But of yours."

She smiled. "No one could ever say you didn't pay attention." She turned to leave, but paused and looked back at him. "Would you escort me to the banquet, King of Rohan? Your presence will be required as well."

"Why?" Éomer was curious of what tradition the princess would cite for his necessary presences. Instead she smiled cryptically. She laughed when began to head toward the hall.

"I must change, King Éomer, if you would excuse me." She bowed slightly before turning from him.

He followed her. "And what am I to do?"

"Find Faramir." So Éomer left in search of the captain and found him near the filling banquet hall.

"Go ahead," Faramir said to Éowyn who stood with her brother at her side. "Lothíriel and I must wait."

Lothíriel nodded. "He is master of ceremonies." She reappeared in a dress of deep red. Her outfit was not elvish nor that of men. Instead the dress was a balance of the two. The neckline was similar to Éowyn's, but her sleeves fit only until the elbow then the fabric hung loose.

For a moment Éomer paused to watch as her outer skirt billowed out around her as she walked up to them. Éowyn was also looking at the princess, but Faramir was watching the king. "Shall I take you in?" Éomer turned from the cousins and offered to his sister his hand.

Together they entered the banquet hall. Down the center of the great hall were three large tables. At the head of the central and longest table sat the king and the Lady Arwen. The four closest seats were yet empty. Éowyn walked on Aragorn's side, Éomer on Arwen's and they took the seats closest but one to the head of the table.

Once they were seated the doors to the hall were opened and Faramir walked in with Lothíriel on his arm. She smiled at something the steward said out the side of his mouth. They walked up to the foot of the table and took up the ornate goblets set out for them. First they raised their cups to those seated at the table. "To all the guests of the king, I welcome you to Minas Tirith and it is my deepest wish that you enjoy the festivities forthwith."

"To the high lady," Faramir raised his glass to her as did every other man in the room while echoing his words. He then turned to the assembly as well. "Welcome and enjoy." The steward was not forced by tradition to say anything specific.

"Couldn't you think of anything better," Lothíriel murmured before raising her glass. "To the Steward," her words were echoed and more glasses were raised.

Faramir sent her a look, then together they raised their glasses to Aragorn. "To the king of Gondor." To the left. "To the King of Rohan." To the right "To our elven and dwarf friends." Then they turned back to the door. "To all."

Lothíriel grinned back at her cousin as they turned again and headed up the aisles between the tables. As Faramir present his glass to the king so did Lothíriel to Lady Arwen. They took a drink and surrender the cups.

Once they finally sat the banquet began. The food was delicious but Lothíriel only took a few bites before she stopped. "Wine too strong for you?" Amrothos teased his younger sister.

But Lothíriel was too focused on the fact that she couldn't feel her lips. She glanced around at the food before her and saw that everything she'd taken a bite of someone else had eaten as well. Except…

Arwen lifted her wine, but Lothíriel pushed the goblet back down. "Don't drink that," Lothíriel whispered and her voice was much raspier than usual. She tried to clear her throat which only forced her to cough. When she pulled her hand away there was blood.

"Lothíriel," Arwen's cry was only heard by those nearest her.

But those who looked could tell that Lothíriel was not well. Her face was ashen and her eyes unfocused. She pushed herself from the table, but as she stood the world spun around her. Arwen touched her arm, but Lothíriel backed away into the person behind her. She turned and came to face Éomer. Her thoughts were jumbled but one thing was certain. "Poison," she forced the word passed her lips as her sight went dark.

Éomer reached out to stop her fall and caught the princess in his arms and carried her pasted the three tables out of the hall. He brought her to the houses of healing without bothering to answer the questions in his wake. It seems several of the partygoers had followed him.

The healers fussed over the princess until one thought to ask Éomer what had happened to her. "She said she was poisoned." He told them after describing how she'd acted.

Éowyn who had followed handed one of healer's Arwen's cup. "The queen asked me to bring this."

One of the women sniffed. "She's not queen yet."

"This is not a poison to kill but to stiffen," said the healer who took the goblet from Éowyn.

Faramir asked, "What do you mean stiffen?"

The healer opened her eyes and they remained open. He then placed and finger before them. "Follow my finger," he said to Lothíriel. He moved his finger back and forth before her face. Her eyes followed his finger."

"She's awake," Éowyn said as she sat down beside Lothíriel.

"Yes, but frozen," the healer went to a cupboard and returned with a vial of liquid which he mixed into some water.

"If you would, my lord." At the healer's request, Éomer raised Lothíriel to a seated position and the healer helped her drink some of the mixture then pause to wait.

It took several moments but she blinked then sat up of her own power. "What was that?" she asked of the healer.

"It's a plant that freezes the blood. Not necessarily life threatening." The healer did not seem overly concerned.

Faramir did. "Will she recover without any effects?"

"She will be perfectly well. Just drink the rest of this and you may be tired for a few days but that is normal under these circumstances."

Lothíriel nodded and began to rise. Éomer who still had his arm half around her stayed her ascension. "Where are you proposing to go?"

"Back to the banquet," Lothíriel stated while maneuvering around him. "All I have to do is drink the healer's potion. I can do that as well there as here." Lothíriel made it to her feet.

But Éowyn demanded that someone walk with Lothíriel in case she couldn't make it on her own then she'd have someone to lean on. They all agreed it would be best if Éomer aided her since he sat on the same side of the table as her. When they returned to the banquet the doors opened to reveal them and the hall went silent. Lothíriel nodded her thanks to the guards and allowed Éomer to lead her to their seats.

The king and queen were sharing a drink to avoid future problems. Lothíriel stared at the goblet in front of her and still no one in the hall spoke Until Arwen reached out a hand and placed it on Lothíriel's arm. "Are you better?"

"Yes, Lady Arwen, it has passed." Faramir, Éowyn and Éomer all glanced at her, but she ignored them. "Perhaps it would make for a better story after the banquet."

But the banquet lingered late into the night as the food was taken away but the drinking and laughing continued. Lothíriel however did not last that long. She tired after listening to her father, brother and cousins relay their stories of the battles with random interjects from Gimli and Éomer or corrections by Aragorn or Legolas. She then left them to continue to brag about their prowess. Instead they told stories of old. Aragorn and Legolas traded stories of the elder. Gimli told the story of his father with Gandalf's help. Éomer shared stories he heard in his youth of his people and the Princes of Dol Amroth shared the stories of Gondor since the last king. Even Elrond shared in the storytelling.

But eventually they all headed off to sleep. Imrahil walked with Éomer though his bed was not located near that of the king. "You are proud of your ability as a warrior, King Éomer?"

Éomer's feet paused and he nodded his head. "My skills in battle have been tested and I surpassed those trials."

"But you question your skills to rule?" Imrahil followed up with a second question.

Éomer glanced at the Prince. "Kings are not born. Aragorn will not be a great king because he is his father's son. He will be a great king because of who raised him and the knowledge he's gained. But I can't help thinking that his parentage may have something to do with it."

"Yet you know yet it does not. Perhaps you are overlooking your own knowledge and those who raised you." Imrahil smiled kindly. "If you are ever in need your allies are behind you."

Éomer inclined his head. "Thank you, Prince Imrahil."

"Good night, Éomer King."

-x-

Sorry about the drama.