The next morning came far too soon in Lothiriel's opinion. Nonetheless, she rose early, put on a simple black dress, tied her hair back, and made her way to the stables. The horses whinnied at her approach; they were all obviously antsy to being the trek to Rohan. Niniel gave her a gentle nuzzle when she stopped by her stall.

She's probably more ready to return to Dol Amroth than I am.

Lothiriel moved past her horse's stall and to the one that held Firefoot. The dappled grey horse eyed her curiously. Lothiriel gave his neck a gentle stroke, and when he relaxed, she slipped the tiny package into the saddlebag on his side. She then rewarded Firefoot's good behavior with an apple and gave him another gentle pat.

"You'll make sure he gets that, won't you?" Lothiriel asked. Firefoot looked back at her; Lothiriel could swear he nodded. Giggling softly to herself, Lothiriel made her way back to her family's rooms. The sun was just beginning to come up, and Lothiriel knew they would be preparing to leave soon. She went back inside, gingerly closing the door behind her. She jumped when she realized two of her brothers were watching her with amusement.

"Where are you coming back from? Late night romance, Thiri?" Amrothos asked, giving her a wink. Lothiriel rolled her eyes.

"Hardly." She gestured to her dress. "Was I wearing this last night? I was merely paying Niniel a visit." Amrothos chuckled.

"What, no blue today Lothiriel?" Elphir asked. Lothiriel gave him a look.

"Blue is hardly appropriate for the beginning of a funeral procession, Elphir. I would've thought you'd be pleased at my properness."

"You look good in blue, sister. I have no problem with that color." Elphir said, shrugging nonchalantly. Lothiriel and Amrothos stared; it had been years since Elphir had been truly friendly towards his siblings. Amrothos opened his mouth to make a comment when Imrahil came in, Erchirion right behind him.

"Ah good, children, you're all here! Sit, sit, these old bones need to rest before the sad journey and I need to discuss something with all of you." Imrahil said, gesturing to the table with chairs clustered around it. The family sat down and all eyes turned to Imrahil. He cleared his throat before beginning. "I know I have discussed this with each of you individually but I want to say this to all of you, together. Amrothos and I will be going to Rohan, because Theoden was a dear friend and I owe him my respects, and Amrothos gets along best with the Rohirrim."

Lothiriel mentally objected this statement, but thought it wise not to say so.

"Elphir, you are to stay in Minas Tirith until your child is born. Work with Faramir, take care of Artanis and Alphros, but you are not to go back to Dol Amroth. Artanis is too far along to risk even the short journey from here to home. Its care will be in the hands of Erchirion and Lothiriel. Erchirion, you will be in charge of our city, but let Lothiriel help. It is hard to bear by oneself. Lothiriel, no bossing your brother, he knows perfectly well how to run things. Now, do any of you have issue with these plans?" The four siblings looked at each other; no one said anything. "Good, it is decided then. Am, are you ready to go?" Amrothos nodded, getting up and dashing to his room, returning with bag in tow.

"Well come on, we can't be late to leave!" Amrothos said, being his customary cheery self. Lothiriel bumped her shoulder against his arm.

"You might want to tone it down a bit, Am. This is a funeral procession after all. The Rohirrim likes you, but not that much." Lothiriel teased. Amrothos flung an arm about her shoulders as the family walked down to the lowest tier of the city.

"I'm going to miss you, Thiri. Do try not to give Erchirion too much trouble. And will you promise to tell the ladies I miss them as well?" Amrothos asked, giving her a teasing wink. Lothiriel scoffed, though a smile remained on her face.

"I doubt the ladies will miss you too much with Erchirion to keep them amused." Erchirion shot the pair a grin over his shoulder and Amrothos scowled. "But I will miss you, brother. Try not to bother the horse lords too much; I should hate to have you return to Dol Amroth in pieces." Lothiriel smirked, enjoying her brother's momentary look of terror before his face fell back into lines of mirth again.

"I am not afraid of them; all I have to do is remind them that you are my sister and they all quake in their boots!" Amrothos laughed. Lothiriel blanched.

"What? Why on Middle Ea—", she stopped as they reached the main square and were greeted by the somber attitude that always goes along with funerals. Though it was early, many people had gathered along the main walkway, to see the King's final journey. The procession had seemingly come to a halt, at the front gates, obviously waiting for those leaving to join it. Two servants appeared with Imrahil and Amrothos' horses. They both took their respective reins and Imrahil motioned for his children to follow him to the front of the procession. Along the way, Faramir appeared, face drawn and in black. Lothiriel took one of his hands and gave it a gentle squeeze; Faramir smiled down at her before focusing his attention on Eowyn, who was standing looking dejected by the carriage that held her uncle's body. Eomer appeared beside his sister, and Lothiriel felt her heart jolt.

Now is not the time for blushing, Lothiriel! They are mourning their uncle!

Aragorn was there as well, Arwen beside him, along with Merry, Pippin, Frodo, Sam, Gandalf, Legolas, and Gimli.

"And now we must say farewell to friends, at least for the time being. Though in six months I believe we will all be reunited for a happier occasion." Gandalf said, giving Faramir and Eowyn a warm smile. Eowyn returned it with a teary version of her own; Lothiriel could tell Faramir was longing to go and hold her, though in present company, that would be deemed extremely improper.

Curse propriety.

Gandalf opened his arms to her and Lothiriel stepped forward to give him a hug; behind him she could see the hobbits talking to Faramir and Aragorn speaking to Erchirion.

"Farewell, my dear princess. I hope to visit Dol Amroth as soon as I can." Lothiriel smiled at the wizard.

"You are welcome any time, Mithrandir. It has been far too long since last you came."

"I recall being afraid to return because of certain princess and a certain stick…though I do not fear for my safety any longer." Lothiriel smiled and gave the wizard another hug, before stepping aside and allowing Faramir to talk to Gandalf. Merry and Pippin appeared in front of her; looking very unlike the sunny versions of themselves she was accustomed to.

"I wish you were coming with us, my lady." Pippin said sadly. Merry nodded in agreement.

"The journey will be boring without you."

Lothiriel felt tears prick her eyes; out of all of her new friends (save of course one), these two hobbits had been dearest to her.

"I wish I was too, Pippin. I swear on my honor that I will visit the Shire, so that I might hear the wonderful music you have spoken so much about." They looked slightly cheered at that, and Lothiriel bent down so she could kiss both on the cheek. Legolas was next, Gimli at his side.

"I Melain berio le." Lothiriel said, inclining her head towards Legolas.

"Calo anor na ven." Legolas said back, reaching to grip Lothiriel's arm in the traditional Elvish manner. Gimli cleared his throat and they smiled down at him.

"Yes that's all very well, why can't you two just say good-bye in a language we all understand?" Gimli huffed. Lothiriel smiled and Legolas shrugged as if to say "Dwarves."

"Good-bye, Gimli son of Gloin. I hope Moria is repaired easily and quickly."

"Aye, as do I lassie. I will not forget your promise to visit! And you must bring Eowyn with you, so I can prove to you both the existence of Dwarf women." Gimli's eyes twinkled and Lothiriel gave a tiny laugh; Eowyn had heard as well and Lothiriel saw the corners of her mouth twitch with a smile.

"We'll be there, Gimli." The pair moved on and Aragorn and Arwen approached.

"No galu govad gen." Lothiriel said, smiling softly at the royal couple. The King and Queen exchanged a pleased surprised look.

"Ná Elbereth veria le, ná elenath dín síla erin rád o chuil lín, Lothiriel of Dol Amroth." Aragorn said, taking both her hands in his. "I am honored to have met you." Lothiriel smiled brightly and gave his hands a gentle pressure.

"No more than I am to have met you, my lord. My lady, I do hope that when you come to Dol Amroth, you will see fit to call upon me if ever you need anything." Arwen smiled.

"Only if you promise to do the same when you come to Minas Tirith, dear Lothiriel. I hope we will see much of each other in days coming." Arwen clasped one of Lothiriel's hands, and then the couple walked away towards Faramir. Eowyn was next, and Lothiriel did not hesitate to hug her.

"I cannot believe this is real, Lothiriel. Uncle is truly gone." Eowyn whispered. Lothiriel gave her friend a sympathetic look.

"I am sorry, Eowyn. But he can never be gone, not really." Eowyn stared at her as if she had just slapped her in the face and Lothiriel quickly explained. "He lives on in all of those who loved him. At least that's what we believe in Gondor. Though judging by your reaction, I would think Rohan's practice is different…" Eowyn gave a soft laugh.

"I'm afraid we believe quite the opposite. We are taught the spirit of our loved one goes to a great hall of our forefathers in the sky. It would be bad luck to linger here, though I can see how your beliefs would be comforting." She sighed. "It is a nice thought that a piece of him is still here." Lothiriel gave her another hug.

"I hope you are coming back to Gondor as soon as possible, Eowyn. It will be so lonely without you. Who else shall I plan to torment the gossiping ladies of the court with?" Eowyn smiled.

"I will have to come back soon, to plan the wedding. Which you are going to help me with," Lothiriel smiled brightly and Eowyn went on, "as my maid of honor." Lothiriel felt her eyes prick again.

"Eowyn! I know next to nothing about weddings!"

"You know more than I about Gondorian traditions. You are my closest friend in Gondor. Please?"

"Only for you. You and Faramir are going to have to name your firstborn child after me for all I've done." Eowyn gave another laugh, but then sobered.

"I will miss you, Lothiriel. I wish you were coming…it would make it easier." Lothiriel didn't bother trying to keep her tears in check now; she saw Eowyn's flowing again as well.

"It will not be so long. And we will write!" Eowyn nodded in agreement, and Lothiriel realized how long they had been talking. With one last pressure on Eowyn's hand, Lothiriel moved off. Eomer was standing by Firefoot, looking as gruff and stony as Lothiriel had ever seen him. Her heart ached for him; what kind of relief can you offer to someone who has lost one of their closest relatives and father figures? She touched his arm and was not surprised when he flinched away. Looking up, he realized it was her.

"My apologies, my lady."

"Do not apologize." She said, eyes bearing into his. "I understand." Eomer had to repress the intense urge to grab her and kiss her right there, in front of all the city, her father, her brothers, Eowyn, his men, propriety be damned. Lothiriel seemed to recognize the look in his eyes and pinked slightly. She took one of his hands (so much bigger and tanned and gnarled, and in that moment, he felt horrified that her tiny, smooth hands even had to be near them, let alone touch them) and turned it over so his palm was facing the sky. He gave her an inquisitive look and she help up a finger, indicating to wait. Lothiriel pushed her hair to one side of her neck, pulled her necklace off, and placed it into his hand. It was a tiny white carving of some creature he had never seen before.

"Erchirion carved it for me from a shell that my mother found. It's a seahorse. They're good luck." Eomer tried to push it back to her; how could he take a piece of her mother and brother away from her?

"I can't take this from you, Lothiriel."

She pushed his hand back.

"I want you to have it. Tie it to Firefoot, put it in a bag, wear it or don't. It matters not. Now you will always have something to remind you of me." She smiled sweetly, shoving her fears of rejection and over-stepping her boundries away. Eomer again had to resist the even more powerful urge to kiss her. He pulled the necklace over his head and let it fall on his chest. Lothiriel's eyes filled with tears and she almost flung her arms around him, wanting to kiss him, hold him, or do something, anything to make him feel better, but finally settled on holding one of his hands. Suddenly Erchirion was there, gravely shaking Eomer's hand and saying,

"I'm sorry for your loss, Eomer-King." Erchirion's arm went around Lothiriel's shoulders and Lothiriel reluctantly removed her hand from Eomer's. Eomer nodded, making a mental note that Erchirion had terrible timing.

"Thank you, Erchirion."

Aragorn caught his eye and Eomer knew that it was time to leave.

"Good-bye, Erchirion. Lothiriel." Eomer said, cursing formality in his head. She deserved a better good-bye. Lothiriel's hand twitched at her side; she had to physically hold on to Erchirion to prevent her from grabbing Eomer.

"Good-bye, Eomer-King." Lothiriel said quietly. The look on her face made him want to punch a wall. He had never felt worse about riding off to go anywhere, and a battle was not even involved this time.

It's only six months. Six months is hardly anytime at all! If Faramir and Eowyn can wait that long, so can I. Lothiriel thought, scolding herself for being self-pitying. So many were dead, and her she was whining about next to nothing!

"Rohirrim!" Eomer yelled and his men all climbed on their horses. Erchirion stepped back taking Lothiriel with him, Amrothos and Imrahil appeared, both kissed Lothiriel and got on their horses as well. Lothiriel was still staring at Eomer, feeling as if her heart was tied to his horse and was about to get dragged all the way to Rohan.

You knew what you were getting yourself into. Kisses that good don't come free.

Aragorn rode up to be next to Eomer, and Arwen came and stood next to Lothiriel, who had unconsciously moved until she was as far forward as she could get, almost out of the city.

"You will see him again soon, dear one." Arwen whispered in Elvish to Lothiriel. Lothiriel nodded, biting her lip in attempt to not cry. Arwen put one arm about her waist and Lothiriel leaned into her. The procession began moving and Lothiriel forced herself to wave as everyone passed; to Eowyn, who had just been kissed by Faramir before getting on her horse, to Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin on their tiny white ponies, to Legolas and Gimli sharing a horse, to her father and brother (who winked), to Gandalf on the magnificent Shadowfax. Arwen gave her a gentle hug before walking forward to kiss Aragorn as he leaned down from his horse. Lothiriel's heart was screaming, shrieking at her. Eomer was staring at her again.

Run to him, you fool! Pull him off his horse and kiss him til he's senseless! You will not see him for 6 months, who cares what those old crones here think!

But she did not, could not.

Eomer could feel her eyes on him, and wished for the days when he was just the nephew of the King, far from the throne. The days when he could jump from his horse, kiss her, comfort her, and no one would have cared at all. But those days had gone, gone with Theodred and Theoden and his parents and so many others. Instead, he looked down and saw the strange seahorse hanging from his neck. He looked up. She was still watching him. Taking the seahorse in hand, he pressed it to his lips.

He looked up from the necklace and could tell she was crying, even from here, even though he could also tell she was trying her hardest not to. After one long look, despite the fact that he was notin love with her, dammit, and committing as much as he could to memory, (the way a few strands of hair had fallen into her face, the tiny spot of pink on her cheeks, those grey-green eyes that were watching him just as intently, how tiny she seemed next to the ruined gates), he turned and began to ride.

oOo

It was not until they were only two days from Edoras that he checked his saddlebag. It had been an accident really. Everyone had been sullen and sad the entire journey (not for lack of reason), and Eomer had been especially short tempered, which everyone that knew him attributed to his way of dealing with loss. Firefoot, needless to say, had not approved of his master's less-than-pleasant mood, and showed his displeasure at every turn. He refused to run with the other horses. He had bucked until his reins came undone from the spike Eomer had left them on, and would only stop protesting when Eomer put his hand on the saddle

Fine, you win. Eomer grumbled internally. He had unbuckled the saddle, pulled it off, and received a happy whinny from Firefoot. Muttering to himself, he took a few things that seemed unnecessary out of the pouches (bits of twine, a piece of bandage, the core of an apple) until he reached something he was sure he had not placed inside. A tiny white letter, folded with utmost care.

"What's that, Eomer?" Merry asked, Pippin peeking over as well. Eomer shook his head.

"I've never seen it before. Someone probably slipped a love letter into the wrong saddle." Eomer said, a slight laugh in his voice despite his foul mood. It was not uncommon for his men to find surprises from their wives and sweethearts hidden in their saddle bags. Nonetheless, Eomer unfolded it, looking for a name to return it to.

The first line, in an eloquent, flowing script, read:

Dear Eomer,

I don't know when you'll be reading this, as I am counting on only you checking the pocket of your saddle to find this letter, so if it is a while until you respond, I would not be alarmed. Men of Rohan are not well known for their neatness, I am told.

Eomer nearly dropped the letter. This letter…was to him. The person hadn't made a mistake after all. But who would go through so much trouble to sneak a letter into the King of Rohan's saddle? The only logical choice was Eowyn, who was only ten feet away from him; it made no sense for her to do so. He continued to read, utterly lost.

You did promise to write me, but after years of brothers, cousins, and a father forgetting to write, I do not put much in the promises of men to write as often as they can. Oh dear, I am whining aren't I? And this letter is supposed to make you feel better! I would start over, but I can't very well do that, because it is quite late and I am very tired, and I do have to get this into your saddle before you leave or the Hobbits barge into the stable once more.

"Lothiriel." Eomer said under his breath, a slight grin making its way onto his face.

The point of this letter, my dear King, is to say that I am truly sorry for your loss. My father always told me stories of Théoden, how kind and brave and strong he was, to suffer so much and complain so little, and I am terribly sad that we were all robbed of him. But none more than you, and dear Eowyn. I know grief is awful; a little monster that tears at your heart when you finally think it has gone away, but even worse when it is first born, a horrible beast that delights in one's pain. I beg of you, dear Eomer, do not let the monster beat you down. I am certain you know this as well, if not better than I do, but a reminder always helps me when I am sad. I do hope you don't find this letter rude, for as I read over it, the sillier I sound! I hope your journey to Rohan is swift and kind, and know that my thoughts are with you when you bury your Uncle. I am afraid I miss you already, though right now I can look out my window and see your encampment on Pelanor. And I could never thank you enough for proving to me that not all men are the dreadful brutes Amrothos and Erchirion make them out to be.

Ever thine,

Lothiriel

Eomer sank down, feeling as if his legs were giving out from under him. Eowyn was watching him, alarm on her face and she stood to hurry over to him, but he stopped her with a hand.

She is unlike any woman I have ever known. He thought to himself. He looked over the letter again, once, twice, three times.

"Eothain!" He called. Eothain appeared and eyed the letter curiously, though he said nothing.

"Yes, milord?" Eomer clapped his friend on the shoulder, smiling wearily.

"Have you any parchment?"

oOo

Author's Note: And thus begins the letter writing, and soon the title of my story will make more sense. I really hope everyone's still enjoying this, and reviews are always so SO welcome :)

I know I'm probably making all kinds of errors regarding time/dates of occurrences in Middle Earth, but I'm not Tolkien and could not even BEGIN to measure up to his greatness.

Special note: Thank you to my dear wonderful angelic-bitch for noticing my Star Trek/Karl Urban reference with "pointy-eared bastard". You can never be too obsessed with Karl Urban. TRUFAX.