Author's Note:

Oh wow, thanks for such wonderful reviews everyone! I'm glad this story is as much fun to read as it is to write. I know you might be wondering "where's the kissing already?" but I'm trying to keep it realistic, because I honestly don't believe someone as strong and stubborn as Eomer or someone as good and intelligent as Lothiriel would just be "HOT DANG LET'S GET IT ON" the second they meet. I hope you'll stick it out (because I promise, they WILL get to that point :) )

Oh how embarrassing! I just realized I've been spelling Pippin's name wrong…and he's one of my favorite characters! Many apologies!

Special note for silverswath: I know the gates were ruined, but in my mind despite being thoroughly messed up, I feel as though they would still use the gates for some protection and show. Thanks for the tip though!

the-mighty-pen325

"Arien, I have no doubt of your healing skills but if you don't let me into see my father this instant, I shall tell the other Healers!" Lothiriel hissed, staring daggers at the angry looking healer.

"Lady Lothiriel you may be a princess but you do NOT know everything about healing. You cannot go in. Tell any healer that, they're bound to agree with me." Arien said, crossing her arms. Lothiriel opened her mouth to retort when Amrothos came round the corner. Arien's face immediately changed; from scowl to a bright smile, complete with twinkling eyes. "Lord Amrothos." Arien said, giving him a curtsy. Lothiriel rolled her eyes, but Amrothos grinned widely.

"Healer Arien! A pleasure, as always." Amrothos said warmly, shooting a wink at Lothiriel. "Now, dear lady, if you don't mind, my sister and I would like to visit our father." Arien's face fell.

"I'm afraid you can't, Lord Amrothos." Amrothos pouted, and Lothiriel had to bite her lip to keep from laughing; his puppy eyes were infamous. "Well…I suppose…only if you're both very quiet, and swear on the Valar not to tell anyone." Amrothos nodded very solemnly.

"We'll completely silent, won't we Thiri?" Amrothos turned back to her and winked. Lothiriel nodded, the picture of sincerity.

"Oh yes, Airen. Completely silent." Arien nodded, smiled winningly at Amrothos, and let the siblings into the room and quickly shut the door behind them. Lothiriel's eyes filled with tears; her father had clearly been shot with an arrow. His entire chest was wrapped in bandages, he was pale, and his eyes were closed. Amrothos held her arm.

"Wait Thiri. Let him rest." Lothiriel looked at her brother; his usual laughing grin was gone.

"How…how bad was it, Am? Don't soften it. I want to know." Amrothos winced.

"None of us noticed how much blood he'd lost until we could see the city. He almost fell off of the horse he was riding, and again, Eomer saved him. I mean, we knew he'd gotten hit by an arrow, but we'd thought it had stopped bleeding…" He looked at Imrahil.

A quiet voice said, "I didn't want you to know, son. If I'd thought it was dangerous, I would've said something." Lothiriel broke free of Amrothos' hold and knelt by her father's side.

"Ada…" Lothiriel said. Imrahil smiled softly at her, and pressed his hand to her cheek.

"Hush, Thiri. I am past the risk of danger now. The Healers say I shall be strong enough to go to the Coronation and the celebration tomorrow, but they would prefer it if I remained here for the night. Do not fret so, Lothiriel." He gently rubbed the crease between her eyebrows; the one that always managed to appear when she was worried. "I may be old, but I am not that old."

"Ada, you're not old!" Lothiriel whispered, earning a laugh from both Amrothos and Imrahil. A knock was heard at the door and Merry and Pippin entered, looking subdued. As soon as the door shut behind them, their faces lit up with their usual mirth.

"Lord Imrahil, we thought you might want food that was not soup, so we brought you these." Pippin opened his hands to reveal a few apples, and Merry produced a hunk of meat and a thick slice of bread. Imrahil smiled widely, looking better by the minute.

"It is as if you two are mind readers, Master Took and Master Brandybuck. I shall be forever in your debt for such a wonderful meal." The hobbits grinned and placed the tiny feast on a napkin Lothiriel had quickly spread over the blanket. Lothiriel watched her father closely as he ate; he did not seem to be in too much pain, though he winced slightly every time he used his left arm.

They were aiming for his heart. Lothiriel realized, and had to repress the urge to shudder at the thought.

"Lothiriel, did you hear Pippin? He's been asking you a question for five minutes now. Are you alright?" Amrothos asked, bending close to his sister to look into her face. Lothiriel jumped; she had been completely absorbed in her thoughts. Imrahil gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"I'm terribly sorry Pippin, I missed your question. Ask again?" Lothiriel twisted a strand of her dark hair around her finger with her free hand, and Amrothos and Imrahil exchanged looks; she only ever did that when she was upset or embaressed.

"It's no trouble my lady! I was asking if you'd like to come meet our friends Sam and Frodo. Frodo was the one who bore the Ring, and Sam went with him. Frodo's just woken up, you see, and he's already seen all of us, the Fellowship, I mean. I'm sure they'd like nothing more than a beautiful lady to distract them." Pippin said charmingly. Lothiriel laughed, a clear musical sound.

"Master Took, I do believe you are trying to charm me! But, I must confess, I am very curious to meet the Ringbearer, and if anything I can do would be a comfort to him, I would gladly do it." Casting a glance at her father, who was nodding in agreement, Lothiriel rose to her feet. "Rest well, Ada. Melin le." She pressed a kiss to his forehead, gave Amrothos' hand a gentle touch, and followed her enthusiastic tour guides down the hallway. As they rounded the corner, Pippin chattering a mile a minute, Merry rolling his eyes at him, Lothiriel saw Gandalf sitting in a chair outside one of the many rooms. When he saw the trio approaching, he stood, a regal smile gracing his face.
"Ah, I wondered when these two imps would hunt you down. Did they give you much trouble?" Merry and Pippen gaped at Gandalf in mock offense and Lothiriel gave another bell-like laugh.
"I must defend Merry and Pippin's honor to you, Mithrandir! They have been nothing but charming and amusing, I assure you." Gandalf gave the hobbits a look; Pippin twisted his foot on the floor and Merry smirked.
"Pip did blather on, but nothing new about that. We were the perfect gentlemen, Gandalf." Pippin gave Merry a half-hearted shove, and both Gandalf and Lothiriel laughed. Lothiriel went and hugged the wizard then, and he responded in a bemused fashion.
"Are you alright, dear girl?" Lothiriel nodded. It had never occured to her, until that moment, how many people in her life could've been lost, and how many voids would never have been filled.
"I'm fine." She stepped back so as not to trespass in the wizard's personal space any longer. "Pippin informed me that I might be of some help," a wink from Merry and a grin from Pippin, "to the newly arrived heroes?" Gandalf gave Pippin a teasingly stern look.
"I'm afraid our dear Master Took has taken to telling Frodo and Sam all about you, and everyone else in Minas Tirith for that matter, and I thought you might be an ideal first choice to meet them, since you are neither nosy nor ignorant, and will not plague them with unnecessary questions or idle chatter." Lothiriel flushed at this; it was both a compliment and a warning, perfectly blended. Gandalf smiled, and opened the door across the hall from the chair he had recently vacated. Lothiriel followed him inside, flanked by Merry and Pippin. The room was dazzlingly bright, with windows facing the sun, crisp white sheets on the bed, and a freshly polished white floor.
Just like Minas Tirith. Lothiriel grumbled mentally. Never any color. Soft laughter came from the corner of the room, and Lothiriel's gaze followed the sound. Two hobbits sat, in very comfortable looking chairs over looking the garden. Noticing the entering group, their laughter cut off, and Lothiriel looked over both of the new hobbits. There was one who looked much like Merry and Pippin; wavy red-golden hair, green eyes, and a jolly face. The other hobbit was quite unlike any of the others she had met, in fact, he almost had Gondorian traits; dark brown hair, hauntingly bright blue eyes, pale skin, and a reserved countenance. She was aware that she was getting the same amount of scrutiny from them as she was giving, and was pleased when they did not appear to wish her away.
"Who is this Gandalf?" The dark-haired hobbit asked, his tone warm. The other hobbit, much to her surprise, seemed much more wary of her presence.
"Frodo, Sam, this is Princess Lothiriel of Dol Amroth, daughter of Imrahil, their current prince. Faramir is her cousin." Lothiriel noticed the other hobbit-Sam?-relax when Faramir was mentioned. The dark-haired hobbit smiled, though it did not seem to reach his eyes.
"I am Frodo Baggins, and this is Samwise Gamgee, milady."
"Oh please, no titles from you, Master Baggins! I am honored to meet both of you, though I am still confused as to why I am here...?" Sam rolled his eyes as Pippin laughed nervously.
"Pippin, as you've probably noticed, tends to have a big mouth. He told Frodo and me that you were as beautiful as any Elf, and Merry insisted that we see for ourselves." Lothiriel laughed again, giving Merry and Pippin a warm look.
"You were charming me, Master Took! And here I thought I would be of some use to brave war heroes, when all I am being used for is a pretty distraction!" Pippin was a bright red, Gandalf was chuckling while smoking his pipe by the window, and Merry looked as if he wanted to throttle Sam. Frodo was smiling a true smile now, and Lothiriel understood her purpose. Putting a hand on Merry's shoulder, she smiled as beautifully as she could at Sam. "So tell me, Master Gamgee, what say you to Pippin's theory? Am I as beautiful as an Elf?" She was rewarded with a laugh from Frodo and Sam's tomato red face. Lothiriel giggled as well as Sam tried to stutter out an answer.
"Well...I mean...I do tend to like fairer hair b-but..."
"You mean Rosie Cotton's hair." Pippin interrupted, his composure (and grin) regained. Sam turned and even brighter red and stood up to yell at him, but was stopped by Frodo's laughter, even louder than before. The entire room stopped, mesmerized by the sound. Frodo smiled.
"Don't be offended, Lothiriel, if Sam stutters around you, it means he thinks you're beautiful." Sam nodded, slowly fading from red to pink. "But not as beautiful as Rosie Cotton." Another round of laughter started, and even Sam could not resist. After talking to the hobbits for a good hour (in which Lothiriel learned Rosie Cotton was a hobbit Sam had been sweet on for years, that Pippin, Merry, and Frodo were all somehow cousins, and that she had the universal approval of all four hobbits), Lothiriel excused herself to go back to her father. Only after she had promised the first dance to Merry and Pippin, and the second to Sam and Frodo, was she allowed to leave.

"Ada, Frodo and Sam are just as wonderful as Merry and Pippin! Why have hobbits neve-oh!" Lothiriel stopped as she realized her father was not alone in his room. The King of Rohan was giving her an amused look, and her father was on the verge of laughter. "I should've knocked! My apologies, Eomer-King, Father-"
"Nonsense, Lothiriel, you're not interrupting anything. Eomer was just recapping parts of the battle I missed, and telling me how polite you and your brothers were." Lothiriel relaxed, and sat on the edge of her father's bed. She remained quiet as they continued discussing the battle, when she noticed a stain on Eomer's right sleeve.
"Father."
"In a moment, Lothiriel. As I was saying Eomer,"
"Father!"
"Lothiriel, I'm in the middle of a conversation! Can't it wait?" Lothiriel huffed, giving her father a dark look.
"Of course, as long as you're alright with the King of the Mark bleeding all over your floor."
"What?" Imrahil looked at his friend, and sure enough, a dark stain was slowly growing on his upper right arm. Eomer looked down and cursed in Rohirric. Lothiriel leaped to her feet, took some of her father's extra bandages a healer had left, and quickly pressed it to Eomer's arm. A Healer came in, and oblivious to the King's plight, and kindly asked he and Lothiriel to leave. Imrahil tried to protest, but the Healer silenced him with, "Now, now milord, you need your rest for tomorrow." One hand still pressed to the bandage, Lothiriel gently tugged Eomer out of the room and into the one next door, where thankfully there were an abundance of supplies.
"Here, keep pressure on it, will you?" Lothiriel half-asked, half-commanded. Eomer shot her a look that could only be described as exasperated. His hand replaced hers as she moved across the room to get fresh bandages and herbs. He watched her intently as she hurried about the room; noting the differences between her and all of the women of his homeland.

She had dark, wavy hair that flowed to her mid-back, paired with skin tanned from living by the sea. Her eyes were the grey-green of the moss that grew in Fangorn Forest, and a light sprinkle of freckles dotted her cheekbones. She was elegant in movement, but he guessed that she had been forced to walk with a book on her head, like Theodred had tried to make Eowyn do, to produce that result. There was no doubt that she was beautiful, even less doubt that he was attracted to her.

The War of the Ring's only just ended and you're thinking about empty-headed Princesses? What's wrong with you?

Lothiriel reappeared by his side and gently pushed up his sleeve and moved the bandage, and winced at the sight. There was a jagged cut, about 3 inches long. Not life threatening, but it ran the risk of infection if she did not do something.

"Ah…Eomer-King?" He looked at her, and again she was struck by the dark, yet handsome, strangeness of his eyes. "The cut is quite deep…I'm afraid it's going to need stitches." He shrugged, and Lothiriel guessed this was not a new experience for him.

Well obviously, Lothiriel, the man's been in wars his whole life. She went to the cabinet, got a needle and thread, and heated the needle over a candle and came back. Eomer opened his hand as if to take the needle and thread from her. Lothiriel gawked at him. "You can't be serious." The King raised his eyebrow, indicating that he was indeed serious. She scoffed. "If you think I'm going to let you stitch yourself up while I'm standing right here, you're mad."

"Fine. Leave the room then." Eomer said, now reaching for the needle and thread. Lothiriel snatched her hand away.

"I am not a squeamish little girl! I have been stitching my brothers' wounds since I was old enough to do so, and from experience, I know it is better to have someone else do it!" Eomer rose to his feet and was suddenly aware how much taller he was than her; she was perhaps 5'4 to his 6'3, if not smaller. Lothiriel, who was used to being shorter than her brothers, was not amused.

"I do not need some princess helping me." Lothiriel's eyes narrowed.

"Then let me do it as the daughter of the man whose life you saved." Eomer stopped in his protest, and stared at her. Without another word, he sat, and looked away from her. Lothiriel rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'men'. She quickly tied her hair back with some twine, unaware that Eomer was watching her out of the corner of his eye. She began stitching without comment, and noted (albeit grudgingly) that he was much tougher than her brothers, who nearly always whined as if they were being tortured by Orcs.

"You're a much better patient than my brothers." Lothiriel said quietly. The corner of Eomer's mouth twitched; after 3 days with Erchirion and Amrothos, he had no doubt that the princes made difficult patients. "I hope you don't find this rude, but have you had to stitch yourself up often?" Eomer shrugged, or attempted to before he realized that would probably result in more pain for himself.

"There aren't healers that travel with us like in Gondor. We all have to fend for ourselves when it comes to wounds." He caught her nod out of the corner of his eye. He grumbled under his breath. "I'm sorry for my behavior before. I'm not used to…assistance." He caught her smirk.

"You're not the first to be angry with a woman's offer for help. But you are the first to apologize. At least to me. I understand, or at least I'd like to think I understand, why it makes men so angry to change their routine." She had stopped stitching now, and was gently rubbing some kind of cream on the cut. Her fingers were soft, and Eomer caught himself wondering what it would feel like for those fingers to be somewhere else…

Blood loss is going to your head…

"So tell me, Lothiriel of Dol Amroth, why do you think it makes men angry to change their routine?" She had finished bandaging his arm, and was now looking at him, her head cocked to the side in amusement.

"You're all stubborn. Even Faramir and he's the most even-tempered person I've ever known."

"I find it hard to believe that all men you know are stubborn."

"Isn't everyone stubborn about something? I'm not denying that women are, but after years of practice, women seem to be more likely to not voice their stubbornness, and just hide their husbands' boots in revenge instead." There was laughter in her voice, and Eomer chuckled as well.

"Something you've done?" Lothiriel laughed, truly laughed, and Eomer was struck by the sound.

"Me? Married? You'd have to look outside Middle Earth to find someone that would marry me." Eomer cocked an eyebrow in disbelief, and Lothiriel cursed herself for blushing.

"From what you know of me so far, do I fit the typical Gondorian noble-woman mold?" It took Eomer less than a second to come up with his answer.

"No. If not for your looks, I would think you were from Rohan, or even an Elf. Never from Gondor." She smiled, revealing white teeth.

"Well, at least I've got that going for me. Good day, Eomer-King." She turned to leave, but was stopped by Eomer's hand on her arm.

"Dance with me tomorrow night. As payment for the excellent stitching job." She blushed this time; fully aware of how close those dark eyes were, the blonde hair so different from her own, could feel his hands' calluses through the thin material of her sleeve.

What is wrong with you Lothiriel? You are thinking about this man…inappropriately far too much!

"I'm afraid Merry and Pippin have my first dance, and Frodo and Sam have the second."

"I'll have the third then." It left no room for argument.