Author's Note: Since I left this story for so long, I'm posting this next chapter to hopefully make up for it a little.

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Messengers had been sent to Edoras before we had even left Minas Tirith. Our party had crossed the border the day before after a week of hard travel, and we were setting up camp for the day; the wagons made for slow progress, and we stopped every few days to rest ourselves and the horses. As the water-logged clothes chafed against my skin and my thighs burned from weeks in the saddle, I was almost surprised that a car didn't drop down from the sky from the sheer power of my wishing for it.

"We have visitors."

I glanced up from where I was setting up my tent. "Good ones or bad ones?" Orcs had been spotted on the road, but so far had left us alone.

Amrothos arched an eyebrow at me. "If it were bad ones, I doubt I would be so cheerful." He took a bite of his apple.

I grinned and swatted his arm as I stood. "Oh, ha ha."

"A contingent of Rohirrim just arrived. The King is with them," Amrothos said casually, watching my reaction. I hoped it didn't show on my face, but my stomach instantly clinched. "It's unusual for the King himself to escort a party to Edoras." He took another bite.

"Maybe he's expressing gratitude for the help," I replied. I was fairly positive my face was on fire. "Or maybe he's worried about orcs or bandits."

He rewarded me with the very definition of a shit-eating grin. "Maybe."

I gave him a look. "You know, I'm here on official business."

I didn't think it was possible, but his grin got even wider. "Maybe." I cleared my throat. I knew I shouldn't let it, but his words were doing things to my stomach. "Want to go see him?"

I hesitated. On the one hand, yes, oh god, yes, I wanted to see him. On the other hand, Eomer and I were strictly platonic friends, despite the massive crush I'd developed for him. He probably wasn't as handsome and powerful as I'd built him up in my mind, I told myself. "I'm sure he's too busy."

"Coward," Amrothos chided with a grin. "He wants to see you. Evidently, he asked about you."

I took a deep breath, then nodded. "You're right. Where is he?"

"He's over by the big tent." Amrothos gave me a once over. "You might want to clean up a little. You've got dirt…everywhere." I flushed red and he walked away, whistling.

Five minutes later, I was fresh-faced and in a clean (-er) dress, though my hair was its normal unruly mess. Amrothos and I were heading to the main tent when we heard a familiar voice. "Amrothos!"

Eomer grinned as he strode through the parade of tents. He was in standard armor, prepared for any contingency during the journey. It was all I could do to smile back widely without swallowing my tongue. "I see your face hasn't gotten any prettier since last we met," Amrothos joked, clapping the other man on the arm.

"I thought you would have been unmanned by some lass's father by now," Eomer replied just as jovially.

I took a moment to study him. He was as tall and broad and striking as I remembered, and he seemed surer of himself than he had in Minas Tirith. But there was something different about him. I frowned, trying to figure it out.

Haggard. He looked ever so slightly drained, like the weight of the kingdom was aging him.

He spotted me over Amrothos' shoulder and his grin widened even further. Tossing my thoughts aside, I smiled back at him and trotted over. At the last second, I remembered myself. He was a king and I was in his land, here to serve at his pleasure. As he approached, I dropped into a deep curtsy, bowing my head respectfully. "Your Majesty."

A finger tucked under my chin and tilted my head back to look at him. He smiled. "A fire-haired harpy once chided me on rank-pulling, remember?"

Instantly, all the tension drained out of me: this was the man I'd thrown a brush at in Minas Tirith. I beamed up at him. "I'm glad your new job hasn't inflated your ego, Romeo," I said.

His grin turned a mischievous. "Well, you did come when I called."

"Everybody gets one, Your Majesty," I said dryly, though I couldn't stop smiling.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you missed me." He clapped a hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. "I'm glad you came, Leigh."

"If you were really glad, you'd get us inside out of this drizzle," Amrothos interjected, mock whining. "I'm a delicate flower."

Eomer glanced at me as I laughed, and I shrugged. "Yep. He was like this the whole way."

He shook his head. "You are a sight for sore eyes, Lady. I didn't dare dream that you would actually be able to come, but I'm glad you did."

"Well, after the letter you sent, I had to come, and I'll stay as long as you need me," I assured him.

"And for that I am grateful, for you are much needed." He glanced around, noting the men watching us as they went about their business. "Would you walk with me?"

Curious, I raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Everything alright?"

He led me to the edge of the encampment, and I tried very hard not to be distracted by the hand on the small of my back. His silence was worrying me, though. "Eomer?" I asked, frowning.

We reached the edge of the camp and began walking the perimeter, but I noticed that we kept far enough away that we couldn't be overheard. "Forgive me," he said quietly. "I'm unused to court intrigue, but I've learned that even the walls have ears."

I arched an eyebrow at him. "Talk to me, Romeo. What you say won't leave this conversation."

He looked at me and smiled, a genuine smile that made my stomach clench. "I know, and that is just another reason that I am grateful you came." He paused, then looked ahead. "I have received much help from my advisors, or most of them, at least. But there are those who do not believe I am fit to be King. There are people who have come forward to contest my claim to the throne."

I frowned at him. "I thought you were the King's heir."

"I was, but there are other relatives, older men who believe I am too young to lead Rohan, especially now that she is in such disorder."

"And the political turmoil is just making things worse," I finished. I shook my head. "There is an old saying back home. 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.'" I looked at him seriously. "Make sure you know what they're doing, or have someone who does. Preferably someone you trust."

He nodded. "My uncle, the Lord of Helm's Deep. He has been away for a long time, but he was with my uncle when he took the throne, and helped him to keep it. He has proved invaluable since the war. He is my most trusted advisor and is well-liked."

"Sounds like he's your man." I looked up at him. "Other than that, I guess I would just prove that you know what you're doing. Surpass all their expectations. Something I will do my damnedest to help you with," I added firmly.

He smiled down at me. "I'm not expecting miracles, Leigh." He winked. "Although I wouldn't turn them away if you're offering."

"Fortunately for you, I still have a few tricks up my sleeve," I said dryly. "Maybe I can muster a miracle or two."

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Eomer sat beside me, chatting and laughing with the soldiers over goblets of mead. Focused on what I was doing, I had completely tuned them out and Eomer had to nudge me to get me to look up. "I've never seen a ruler used to draw landscapes, my Lady," said one of the blond soldiers sitting across the fire from me.

I smiled. "I'm not drawing landscapes," I answered. "And call me Leigh." I held up the paper to show them.

The soldier frowned at the sketches. "What is it?"

"It's called a wind mill. Rom—Uh, the King mentioned in a letter that Rohan was lacking in able-bodied men and horses to mill the grain into bread. This will do the work for you."

"How does it work?" Eomer asked.

"It uses the wind to turn the millstone." When they frowned expectantly, I bit my lip, wondering how to explain it. "See that flag?" I asked, pointing to the King's standard blowing in the breeze. "The wind is lifting it up. Well, with this, the wind turns the sails, which will turn the millstone to grind the grain. With a little alteration, you can use it to saw wood, too, to make building houses faster."

They stared at me for a moment before a younger soldier blurted, "But you're a woman!"

My lips quivered with the urge not so smile. "Oh, well spotted."

Eomer coughed suspiciously into his goblet as the kid flushed red. One of the older soldiers laughed and clapped Eomer on the shoulder. "Has your sister met her yet?"

"Not yet," Eomer said, grinning at me, "but I have a feeling my life is going to be impossible after."

I raised my eyebrows as the men laughed. "Why? What's she like?" For some reason, this only made them laugh harder. Finally, I rolled my eyes and stood. "Right, I'm going to bed. Goodnight." I listened to their laughter as I walked away, but couldn't help a little smile of my own. I had a feeling whoever his sister was, I was going to like her.

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Since Amrothos and I were political guests of the King, we rode beside Eomer at the front of the long parade of horses and wagons. For the past week, we'd been traveling under summer rain showers. Around day five, everyone had become so miserable that we had started laughing, breaking the tension that had hung over everyone. At some point, you become so miserable that everything becomes funny. The men were joking around, and I couldn't help but snicker as some of the Captains affectionately recounted stories of the new king when he was young.

Cold, wet, and caked in mud, I was doing my best to hold onto my horse's reins as I doubled over in laughter. "What did he do?"

"Our brave commander attempted to climb out the window," Eothain commented dryly. He was Eomer's Second-in-Command, and had a delightfully irreverent friendship with the King. He also had the best stories. "Unfortunately, he forgot he was on the second floor and fell face first into a horse trough. He had to go to the infirmary for stitches."

"In my defense, Eowyn is more terrifying than a host of Uruk-hai when vexed," Eomer commented defensively. "And why are we telling this story, anyway? I was told I would be respected as King."

"It's how we keep your ego in check," I said mischievously. "Otherwise, the crown isn't going to fit on the royal head."

"You, Lady, will be a most welcome addition to the Golden Hall," Eothain told me, grinning.

"Wonderful. This is exactly what I need, my two best friends uniting against me," Eomer said dryly. He looked at his friend. "Don't I keep meaning to fire you?"

"Your clerk likes me and never puts it on your schedule," Eothain said dismissively.

Eomer rolled his eyes, but looked around. "The sun sets soon. Call the men to a halt. I want camp set up before night falls." Eothain nodded and whirled his horse around.

"How close are we to Rohan?" I asked curiously.

"We're in it," Amrothos said. "We've been in it since last night."

I blinked. "Right." I looked around as I dismounted. "So far, it looks a lot like Gondor."

Eomer laughed. "We're traveling along the mountains. Soon the trees will clear and you'll see the valley of Harrowdale, where Edoras lies."

"And how far is that?"

"Two days ride." Eomer looked at me with a grin as a page took our horses. "Saddle sore?"

"Yes. Maybe a nice dip in a horse trough would help," I suggested innocently. Amrothos coughed into his fist to cover a laugh.

"Remind me to send Eothain on an extended patrol in the marshes for telling you that story," Eomer said, rolling his eyes as he left.

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Most everything else about this time I had gradually grown accustomed to, but I knew I would always miss my daily showers. Baths were no substitute, specifically not ones taken in the icy water that ran off from the mountains as the snow melted, icy baths that I couldn't even take every day, and left me shivering uncontrollably.

The night was warm, at the very least, and I was grateful for that as I made my way through the forest. There was a stream nearby that I had spotted earlier when I had gotten water. It took me a moment to find again, but I managed to stumble across it at last. I didn't have a torch – in a camp full of men, I had no desire to advertise my location for curious eyes – and simply tossed my clothes and towel on a bush by the stream.

By the time I finished washing, I was shivering and numb, but clean for the first time in days. My teeth chattered noisily as I stepped out of the water and wrapped the towel around me, and I was so intent on warming myself up that I was taken by surprise when the hair stood up on the back of my neck. Instinctively, I froze.

I didn't know how or where, but primal instincts I didn't even know I had were screaming at me that a predator was close. My hands were violently trembling.

A twig snapped behind me, and I whirled around. "Woah ugly!"

I didn't blink. I didn't even breathe. I took a slow step backward, then another, my eyes locked with the beast that stood in front of me. It wasn't an orc; I had seen them on the side of the road after our sentries killed them. This looked like some sort of bulldog-mountain lion hybrid. I inched backward, my hand feeling behind me for a stick, a rock, anything useful. All it landed on was my dress.

The animal and I moved at the same instant. The dress landed across its eyes as it lunged, throwing off the animal's aim. It slammed into the tree behind me and I sprinted towards the camp, screaming for help. Paws slapped the leaves behind me as it chased me and I instinctively ducked as it jumped, the monster already turning itself in the air as it sailed over me.

I braced myself to fight as it sprang again.

Instead, there was a series of dull thuds – like a meat tenderizer, I thought insanely – and then the animal was on the ground, arrows sticking out of it. I stared at it for a second, breathing hard. "Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ."

A cloak settled heavily over my shoulders and I looked up, somehow not surprised to see Eomer. I cleared my throat. "You Rohirrim have impeccable timing," I joked, my voice a little shakier than I'd intended.

There was a smattering of chuckles around me, and I suddenly realized I was surrounded by men. I also realized that I was clad only in a towel. I tugged the cloak tighter around me as my face flamed. "Are you hurt?" Eomer asked.

I did a quick mental assessment, realizing that my back was on fire as the adrenaline wore off. I awkwardly pulled back the shoulder of the heavy cloak and touched my hand to the skin of my back. It came away soaked in red. "Oh, dear. I seem to be leaking."

There was a laugh, but it quickly morphed into a cough. Eomer merely frowned at my hand. "I'll take you to a healer," he said. "Someone find her clothes and bring them."

"I can get my own things. It's just some scratches, not anything serious." There was nothing I hated more than a damsel in distress. One look from Eomer squelched any further protest, though. I sighed. "Lead on, Ro—Your Majesty."

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I wasn't really one for profanity. On the rare occasions I did curse, it was for extreme emphasis of my point.

In the Healer's tent, however, I was swearing up a storm as the medic stitched up my back. He had given me something for the pain, but all it seemed to do was loosen my tongue. If there was one saving grace, it was that I had completely slipped into English.

"What is she saying?" came Eothain's voice from the other side of the tent. He and the King were standing outside the tent as I was sewn up.

"Judging by her tone, I doubt it's anything flattering," Eomer replied. "Is everything alright in there?"

"Everything's just peachy-fuckin'-keen," I snapped. "Maybe next time I'll get a full frontal lobotomy and make a day of it!"

"Doesn't handle pain well, I take it," Amrothos said dryly.

I said something unflattering in English, but they could understand my tone if not my words, and Eomer started laughing. "I'm finished, my Lady," the medic told me as I gingerly slipped my dress over my head. "I'll need to change the bandages come morning, but it should otherwise be fine. The stitches should be out in a week."

"Thank you," I said, cringing as my back stung. He pat my shoulder and packed up his supplies as I tied my belt.

The three men were waiting for me as I stepped out of the tent. "Congratulations. It's not every woman that can say she faced down a warg in only a towel," Amrothos commented with a grin.

"Is that what it's called? I thought it was some sort of disfigured mountain lion," I said, sweeping an arm under my curls to pull them out of the back of my dress. I winced when it pulled my stitches.

"They were the mounts of the Uruk-hai," Eothain explained. "How is your back?"

"I'm fairly sure the medic poured lava on it." I shot the medic a grin, and he smiled back. "But I'll live. Thanks for the rescue, by the way. I'm a big fan of your timing."

"Well, nothing will muster a host of Riders to arms faster than a woman's scream," Eomer said dryly.

Eothain laughed. "Although you made my shot much easier by ducking."

"You made the shot?" I asked in surprise. "I'm just glad I could provide some target practice," I said mildly. "Wouldn't want the Riders of the Mark getting rusty."

"Shall I take you to your tent to recover?" Amrothos asked.

I frowned in confusion. "Recover?" I asked blankly. I glanced at the medic's tent, then back at the men. "Uh…wasn't that… I mean, there were stitches. Believe me, there were many, many stitches," I added with a pained grimace.

"He means to recover from the fright," Eothain explained, watching me with a thoughtful tilt of his head. "Most ladies would have gracefully fainted as they waited for us to save them."

"Well, that sounds like an exceptionally bad idea," I said, blinking. "I mean, being in a towel was bad enough, but being unconscious would be an incredibly embarrassing way for natural selection to catch up with you."

Eothain grinned and Amrothos started laughing, but Eomer just crossed his arms with an I-told-you-so smile and looked at the two men. "See? I told you she's not like other women."

I stared at him. "I can't tell if I was complimented or not." I shook my head. "Anyway, I need to work on the windmill designs a little more. If I have to go camping with a group of men for two weeks and then get attacked by Satan's answer to ponies, I'm at least going to get some work done."

"Who are we to deny a lady her want?" Eomer said with a laugh. "Come, Lady."

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