Author's note: It's been so long since I've published that I forgot how sweet you guys are in your reviews. I just wanted to thank you all for your kind words and enthusiastic encouragement. Tolkien fans, in my experience, are the best at giving encouragement and reviews.

A week later, I was wanted to shank someone. More specifically, I wanted to shank Byrnhorn and Fordwin. Right in the kidney. I was sure the two patronizing Lords had it coming anyway.

"You look like you want to strangle someone."

I pursed my lips as Eowyn took a seat across from me. The main hall was lined with tables during meal hours, and we had taken to eating lunch together every day. "Something like that," I told her, annoyed. "The draft for the greenhouse finally came back. Whoever checked it took a week to do what I did in one night, and he still managed to get everything wrong."

Eowyn arched an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Whoever it is doesn't seem to understand math," I said dryly. "They sent a note with all my supposed mistakes and their corrections, but not one of the equations was worked out correctly, so now I have to correct their math and send it back. At this rate, the greenhouses won't be built until January."

"And it is Lord Fordwin and Byrnhorn that suggested the changes?" she asked. I nodded. "Perhaps that was their intent. Either way, the greenhouses are not constructed and you end up looking incompetent," she pointed out, tearing off a hunk of bread.

I gave her a droll look. "Thanks. That's just the encouragement I needed."

Eowyn grinned. "I'm not one for motivational speeches. My brother is better at that."

"You know, your brother is also a King who can order beheadings," I mused.

She snickered, but shook her head. "That seems like a permanent solution to a temporary problem." She eyed me for a second as I viciously stabbed a block of cheese with a little more force than strictly necessary, pretending it was Fordwin's face. Carefully, she plucked the knife from my hand. "I have an idea. Collect some food and follow me."

I frowned but obediently started stuffing bread and cheese into my satchel as she filled a flask with water, and following her out of the hall towards the city. "Where are we going?"

"Watching a man be beaten to a pulp is the next best to doing it yourself," she explained casually. "I'm taking you to the practice fields."

Amused, I arched an eyebrow at her. There were dark and twisty depths to the White Lady of Rohan. "Does Faramir know how bloodthirsty you are?"

She shot me a sly sideways look. "I intend to let it be a happy surprise." I snickered.

The practice fields were at the bottom of the large hill Edoras was built on, but when we finally arrived, I decided Eowyn was a brilliant woman. Shirtless, well-muscled men surrounded us, covered in sweat as they sparred against one another. In each of the four or five fenced pens, two men fought each other with swords, spears, or bare-hands, while others leaned against the fence and called out advice or jokes as they waited for their turn.

We leaned against one of the pens, watching as two men beat each other senseless with some very nasty looking swords. "Are those real swords?" I asked incredulously.

"They're dulled," Eowyn explained distractedly, digging two rolls out of my satchel. She handed one to me. "They hurt like you would not believe, though."

"Well, getting hit with a metal stick is bound to be unpleasant." I cringed as one of the men took an elbow to the face. "God! I think he just lost a few brain cells!"

"In future, he will not leave himself open." We looked up to see a shirtless Eomer approaching with a grin. His chest was slick with sweat and tanned from the summer sun, and though he didn't have a six pack, every muscle in his body rippled with the kind of strength gained only from real work. Oblivious to what he was doing to my hormones, he propped an arm on the fence beside me and leaned against it, smiling down at us. "What brings you here?"

"She needed to let out some frustration, so I thought to take her here lest she attack Lord Fordwin," Eowyn explained dryly.

Eomer frowned. "Yes, he spoke of what happened. I wanted to wipe the grin from his face with my fist. Is it as bad as he said?"

"No. My designs are fine," I assured him, finally managing to form a coherent thought. "Whoever checked it doesn't understand basic math." Eomer plucked my roll from my hand and broke it in half. I rolled my eyes. "No, no. Help yourself."

"King," he reminded me around a mouth full of bread. I rolled my eyes again and just handed him my flask. He grinned.

"Who are you sparring?" Eowyn asked.

"Eothain, unarmed." He nodded to the Commander on the opposite side of the pen. Like most of the others, he was shirtless, and a long scar cut across his chest. Still, the sight of his bare chest didn't do the same thing to my hormones that Eomer's did. "We haven't fought each other since his wounds healed. It should be a good match."

"Try not to let him knock you unconscious as you did the last time," Eowyn said dryly.

Eomer shot his sister a look. "That happened once, and only because I was distracted by spotting my sister fighting Hama in the next ring."

"Make what excuses you will," she said dismissively. "He gloated for a week."

Eomer thinned his lips. "You know, you're as annoying now as you were when you were five. You're like a gnat. You never stop buzzing around and irritating me."

Eowyn snorted. "And you're an idiot." Eomer threw a piece of cheese at her.

I couldn't help it: I started laughing helplessly. Eomer glared at me. "Sorry, sorry. It's just... that was the most stereotypically sibling conversation I've ever heard." I grinned at them as they both simultaneously rolled their eyes. "Tell you what. Let's make this interesting, Eowyn. I bet you three silver that Eomer can beat Eothain."

"See? This is why I hired Leigh," Eomer told her, crossing his arms.

"To stroke your ego?"

"And here I thought it was for my genius," I said dryly.

Eowyn raised her eyebrows. "You know what? I'll take that bet."

I leaned over to Eomer. "You can actually do this, right?" I asked in a low voice.

He rolled his eyes so hard he could probably see his brain. "I'm going to pretend you did not ask that." He looked over as Eothain waved at him, and nodded, easily swinging himself over the fence. "You're using your winnings to buy me an ale," he called over his shoulder.

"You have to win first, Your Majesty," I countered with a laugh.

Eothain and Eomer met in the center of the ring and shook hands. A third man stood several feet away. "Begin!"

Instantly, Eothain charged, but Eomer grabbed him and flipped him over his hip. I whooped and cheered, but Eothain was already trying to sweep Eomer's feet from under him. Eomer jumped, dodging the leg, but it gave Eothain time to get back on his feet. Eothain ducked when Eomer swung at him, grabbing his arm and trying to twist it behind Eomer's back. Eomer turned and managed to pull the other man into a headlock, but Eothain rammed his head backwards into Eomer's face. Eomer stumbled back and the men parted, beginning to circle each other as they looked for openings.

Eomer took the initiative this time, faking a swing at Eothain's face, but Eothain seemed to know what Eomer was doing before he even moved; he caught Eomer's other arm before it made contact with his ribs. He tried to wrench it back, but Eomer stepped into him, hit Eothain's face hard with his elbow and, in a move I thought existed only in Jackie Chan movies, bodily flipped the man over his shoulder like a rag doll. Eothain hit the ground hard on his back and Eomer had a knee on his throat before he could recover. Eothain tapped out.

"Holy shit." I stared at Eomer, suddenly getting a whole new perspective on the man. The whole time I'd known him, he'd just been Romeo, a guy who was good with horses, sucked at math, and felt a heavy responsibility to his people, who he just happened to rule. I'd known he was a renowned warrior who had fought in all the major battles of the war, but hadn't really thought about it. Now, having just watched him take down a behemoth of a man, I saw him in a whole new light, and I had to admit, the display of raw masculinity gave me a primitive frisson of feminine pleasure. This man was playing my hormones like a fiddle.

"Don't let it go to your head," Eowyn sighed, pulling my attention away from her brother as he helped Eothain to his feet.

I blinked at her, then grinned as she pulled out three silver coins and placed them in my palm. She shot an unhappy scowl at her brother as he came to the fence beside us.

"That was awesome," I told him seriously. "I mean, maybe some anger issues there, but... I knew you were a soldier, but I didn't realize... And then that shoulder flip thing you did at the end?"

He grinned. "I think this is the first time I've ever seen you at a loss for words." I laughed and smiled up at him, both of us locking eyes for a second as we just grinned at each other.

A page ran up with a message for Eomer, and the moment passed. As he turned to talk to the boy, I looked at Eowyn, only to find her watching us speculatively. I cleared my throat. "I should really get back to work," I said hastily, moving back up hill.

Eowyn's eyes followed me as I left.

0o0o0o0

Eomer was bent over his desk when I knocked on the door to his study. He looked up and I smiled at him. "Hey, Pony Boy. You busy?"

"Not if it's you. Come in."

I held up the two mugs as I approached. "I brought your reward from this afternoon," I told him with a grin, setting one in front of him. He laughed and accepted it. "What are you working on?"

"Just reading some reports." He leaned back in his chair and I hopped onto the desk next to him, swinging my feet. "The East Fold and the Wold are doing well, though they suffer from lack of able-bodied men. Even Orc raids have almost ceased."

I studied him for a second as he took a long swig of ale. "What was it like during the War?"

His smile faded and he looked down at his mug, silent for a long moment. "It was war, Leigh. It was battle and hopelessness and watching the death of good men."

"And how have you been since?"

"I came away unscathed," he shrugged.

I watched him steadily. "That's not what I asked."

He looked at me for a long moment, obviously wondering whether or not to confide in me, and I simply met his gaze patiently. For a second, I thought he wouldn't answer. "I have trouble sleeping," he finally confessed quietly. "When I do fall asleep, my dreams are plagued with nightmares." He rubbed his forehead a little, still not meeting my eyes. "Do you remember the morning you woke me?"

I grinned. "By dumping water on you? Yeah. It's a memory I cherish."

He laughed tightly. "I threw a candlestick at the page... I didn't realize it was him."

"You were having a nightmare," I realized.

"I don't remember much about it, only that I was unarmed and pursued." He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, his head bowed. "It wasn't that I didn't want to wake. It was that I couldn't."

The King of Rohan, like so many soldiers who had come before and would come after, had come back from the war with PTSD. But this was a world without psychologists, without medication, without any of the advancements used in the 21st century. I felt helpless. This wasn't a problem I could fix.

Aching for him, I did the only thing I could: I slipped off the table and stepped between his legs, draping my arms around his neck and stroking his hair soothingly. He stiffened in surprise and looked up at me. "I don't want your pity," he told me.

"Good, because you don't have it." I met his gaze steadily. "Do you remember our deal in Minas Tirith? I'm your person, Romeo. Just accept the comfort."

He stared at me for a moment, but finally, he relaxed and wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his head on my stomach and letting me hold him. There were no words; I just held him and stroked his hair, and he clung to me.

"This, too, shall pass," I murmured, remembering the old proverb. "The dreams and pain will fade with time."

He sighed and released me, sitting back. "And if they don't?"

"Then I'll still be your person," I replied firmly. "No judgements, no pity, no rank pulling."

There was a knock on the door and I stepped back as it opened. A page appeared. "I'm sorry to interrupt, my Lord. I have a message from Commander Eothain."

"I should go to bed, anyway," I commented, taking my cue to leave. I curtsied to Eomer, the same man I'd been comforting moments before; in private, I may be his person, but he outranked me when we had an audience. "Good night, your Majesty."

0o0o0o0o0o0

The guards outside didn't stop me as I opened the door to Eomer's office; I was one of three people who could walk in unannounced, the other two being Eothain and Eowyn.

Eomer was staring at the fire, but looked up when I came in. I held up a note and he grinned. "Get in here, woman?" I asked incredulously. Looking him dead in the eye, I balled up the note and chucked it at his head.

He laughed and caught it. "I thought it would be more effective than 'At your next available time, please join me in my office'."

"Well, you're not wrong," I said dryly, taking a seat in the chair beside him. There was a small table between our two chairs. "Chess?"

"I thought you might join me."

I was white, so I moved my pawn. "How did the meeting go this afternoon?"

"Not well," he said dryly.

I laughed. "Well, whatever it was, you've got your fight face on. What was it about?"

"Lord Rumolf of Snowbourne," he said. He shifted his knight. "Or, rather, his eldest son Rumond."

"What about him?"

"Before the Battle of the Hornburg, all the men and Lords of Rohan were summoned to the King's aid. One Lord alone did not come."

"Rumolf," I guessed. I moved a rook and took his knight.

He nodded. "At the time, we believed it was a sign that the men of Snowbourn had been killed by Saruman's forces. His excuse was that his keep was surrounded."

"But you don't believe him."

"No, and neither does the Council. Our eored patrols have seen no evidence of a siege, yet we cannot challenge a Lord of Rohan without proof."

"What do you think happened?" I asked as he took my bishop.

He glanced up at me. "Why don't you guess?"

I rubbed my mouth. "Well, I think the lords of Rohan were at Helm's deep," I said slowly. I almost took his rook, but hesitated. I took a pawn instead. "I think he could probably guess that Saruman had amassed an incredible force to send against Theoden if he summoned everyone."

"Yes." He stole my knight.

"I think that there are probably several degrees of separation between him and the throne, and all of them were under attack at Helm's Deep," I realized. I looked up at him. "You think he was waiting for you guys to die so he could claim the crown?"

Eomer nodded, claiming a pawn. "Check."

I took it with my queen. "But you can't prove it."

"No, and Rumolf knows it."

"What does that have to do with his son?" I asked. He was chasing my king around the board, and all I could do was barricade it.

"Erkenbrand has a fifteen year old daughter." Eomer captured my other knight. I frowned. He was pretty well kicking my ass. "Rumond is sixteen. Both were at the celebration in Cormallen. My meeting was Byrnhorn informing me of a rumor spreading of indecency between the two, though she denies it vehemently."

I managed to steal his queen. "Ok. I can see why Erkenbrand would be pissed... uh, angry," I clarified. "Is he insisting on them getting married or something?"

"Quite the opposite. He believes his daughter and is vehemently against any union between their houses. Rumolf is the one demanding marriage."

"Wow. Plot twist." I blinked. "Ok, something tells me you believe her, too."

"I believe Rumolf started the rumor," he confirmed. He took my rook. All I had left were pawns, a queen, and a king backed into a very uncomfortable corner. "Why do I believe that?"

"Um... Ok, hold on, I can do this." I bit my lip, frowning at the board without really seeing it. "Eowyn is getting married, so she is no longer in your line of succession," I said slowly. "That means Erkenbrand is next in line. But he's getting older now." I rubbed my lips, then made a Hail Mary pass and went after him with my queen.

"If they marry, Rumond becomes second in the line of succession. But he is too young to take the throne until his twenty-first birthday."

"So Rumolf would become regent," I realized. I stared at him. "You got all of that from hearing about two kids possibly..." I hesitated, wondering how to word it delicately, then gave up and clicked my tongue suggestively.

Eomer grinned at me under his eyebrows as he took a pawn. "Checkmate."

"I have to say, I'm a little in awe of you," I told him seriously. "I always knew you were smart, but I didn't realize you were smarter than me until now. What are you going to do?"

Eomer sat back and laced his fingers over his stomach. "What do you think I'm going to do?"

I shook my head helplessly, resting my chin on my fist. "I honestly have no idea. You're going to have to hand me this one."

"I'm going to declare them both too young for marriage unless she becomes pregnant."

I frowned curiously. "I thought the legal age for marriage here was 13."

"Not for nobility. Noble age is 16, unless there are extenuating circumstances, such as pregnancy. Even then, both lords must give consent."

0o0o0o0o0o0

A month passed like a blur. The greenhouses were approved and plans for their building commenced, along with the windmills. For the first time since I'd fallen into Middle Earth, I found myself with a routine, a typical day to day that kept me busy.

Rose and I sent letters back and forth; we talked about news, but also about her pregnancy, about life in Rohan, about the things we missed back home. We bounced ideas back and forth about future projects. We discussed the people we knew – Queen Arwen was pregnant, and Aragorn wasn't handling it with his usual calm – and about their trip to Rohan for Eomer's coronation.

That Eomer hadn't actually been coronated was something I hadn't realized until Rose mentioned it. Eowyn looked at me like I was crazy when I brought it up at lunch. "Why do you think all the Lords of Rohan are here when they should be home for harvesting season?"

"I thought they lived here," I said defensively.

"Oh, Gods help us if that were the case." She looked horrified by the idea. "No, the coronation is in a month. It would have been earlier, but between the traditional mourning period and getting Rohan back on her feet, it was postponed."

"How have I not heard about this?" I asked incredulously.

She gave me a droll look. "Evidently, you weren't paying attention. Look around you. The Lords are here. Edoras is being cleaned and repaired. The staff are scrubbing Meduseld top to bottom. Messengers are bombarding me daily with acceptances of the invitations." She arched an eyebrow. "We assumed you knew."

"So, what happens at the coronation?" I asked, changing the topic.

"Well, dignitaries from the various realms arrive about a week in advance. While they're here, there's a formal dinner every night with a small group of them. Then Eomer gets coronated here" – she waved her fork to indicate the Great Hall – "and swears an oath, then takes the throne. Immediately after, there's a giant party."

It seemed simple enough. "Who's coming?"

Eowyn groaned. "As the Lady of Meduseld, I have the responsibility of the guest list. I swear it grows every day," she sighed. "So far, we have Aragorn, Boromir, Faramir" – she smiled a little at that one – "Prince Imrahil representing Gondor. Then Frodo, Merry, Pippin, and Sam for their service in the War. We also have Gimli attending as a representative of the dwarves, and Legolas for the elves. Obviously, the various lords from Rohan. And then whoever else has a marriageable daughter to parade in front of my brother," she added dryly.

That thought tightened a little knot in my stomach, but I shoved it back. Not mine, I reminded myself. "So, you're the one planning all this?" She nodded. "Well, if you need any help, just let me know."

It was a meaningless offer to be polite, and I didn't expect her to ever take me up on it; God knew, I didn't have any experience planning parties, let alone coronations. Eowyn, however, hesitated. "Actually, Eomer asked to see you."

"Why?" Alarms were going off in my head. I eyed her.

"You need to speak with him," she said, shaking her head. "He's probably in his office, if you have a free moment."

"Why didn't he just come to me himself?" I asked curiously. "We talk every night."

"He only thought of it this morning," she explained with a shrug. "In all likelihood, he would have come to you with it tonight, but it came up naturally."

I wiped my mouth with a napkin and stood. "Looks like I've got an appointment, then. I'll see you tomorrow." Eowyn waved her fork dismissively at me as I strode to the West wing.

As promised, Eomer was in his office, but he wasn't alone. He leaned back against his desk with his arms crossed, listening as Byrnhorn and Eothain discussed repairs for Helms Deep. They all looked up when I knocked, and Eomer waved me into his office. "You needed to see me, your Majesty?"

"Yes. Please, join us." I was gradually learning to tell the difference between when he was the King I served and when he was just my friend; the note of command in his voice told me he was the King now.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," I greeted with a curtsy to the Lords. Eothain grinned at me, but Byrnhorn just nodded. I looked at Eomer. "How can I be of service, my Lord?"

"You have proven yourself repeatedly to be an exceptional engineer," he told me. "We now need your service yet again."

"Lady Eowyn mentioned it might have something to do with the coronation?"

He nodded. "My throne is contested, and with the coronation, we will have the attention of the realm as well those of the dignitaries who will be attending."

"The coronation will afford us the opportunity to impress the King's might upon the Rohirrim lords, especially the ones who are challenging his right to rule," Eothain explained.

"And where do I come in?" I asked warily.

Byrnhorn watched me steadily. "Your kinswoman gave Gondor gunpowder."

My knot of dread settled in my stomach. I could guess what they were after. "She did it as a bartering tool," I pointed out.

"Nonetheless, it made King Elessar more powerful in the eyes of his court that he had such an invention, even if it did come from a woman," Eothain explained.

"There was a fear of the Southrons attacking Gondor when it was weak from the War, but the Lady Steward gave her King the power of intimidation." There was a note in Byrnhorn's voice, somewhere between coldness and condescension. "If he had that kind of technology in times of peace, imagine what Gondor can achieve if tested."

My gaze fell to the floor. "Please don't ask me to create a war machine, your Majesty," I said quietly. "Not unless absolutely necessary for the safety of Rohan."

"Your king is asking you to serve," Byrnhorn said coldly. "Are you refusing?"

"Lady Rose was a soldier," I countered. "I am not. I create things to help, not to destroy." I looked at Eomer. "I won't build something just to scare your enemies. History has shown us time and again that they are used as often against a country's own people as they are against her enemies."

"You are suggesting the King would attack his own people?" Byrnhorn asked incredulously.

"No. I'm suggesting it of the kings who will follow," I snapped.

There was a long silence after that, and the tension was palpable. Finally, Eomer sighed. "Must I make it an order, Lady?"

I looked at Eomer, shocked. I couldn't believe it. He knew I couldn't argue with him in front of the audience, and that was why he'd kept them in the room. "I…yes, Sir. You will have to order me," I said quietly, dropping my gaze; at that moment, I couldn't even look at him.

"Then consider it so."

My jaw tightened, and I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. I looked up at him again, knowing he could see the disgusted betrayal in my eyes. "I serve at the pleasure of the King," I said, not breaking eye contact, my tone just barely toeing the line between propriety and contempt. His lips thinned. "If there is nothing else, your Majesty?"

"Dismissed."

I bobbed a curtsy, then left before I said something inappropriate.

0o0o0o0o0

I spent the rest of the day in my office, staring at the blank sheet of paper in front of me and wondering what to do. I knew what I wouldn't do: Eomer could give me as many orders as he pleased, but I wasn't giving him a machine for war.

History was filled with lessons, though Rose hadn't had enough formal education or experience to have heard of them. The Gatling gun, the precursor to the automatic weaponry of the 21st century, had been created by a man trying to impress the terrible nature of war on humanity. His goal had been to reduce the size of armies and thereby the fatalities. He'd been trying to show how futile war is. All he'd done was given humanity a more devastating weapon with which to kill each other.

It wasn't the first such lesson in history, and it wasn't the last; Oppenheimer, the father of the Atomic Bomb, had been disgusted when the U.S. had bombed a Nagasaki three days after Hiroshima, when there had been no military advantage to doing so. They'd done it simply to send a message. Oppenheimer had personally gone to the President and told him that he had blood on his hands. The President threw him out of the White House. Seventy years after the Manhattan Project, the world was constantly in danger of destroying itself.

There was no way in Hell I was giving Eomer a weapon.

Frustrated, I finally gave up trying to find a solution and made my way out of Meduseld. I couldn't stay under the King's golden roof for another second. I walked for a while, wandering around aimlessly, but night had fallen, and it was dangerous for a woman to walk alone in the dark. Finally, I found myself perched on a fence behind the Golden Hall.

Meduseld was at the highest point in the valley, and the view from my perch was breathtaking: horses were roaming around in the distance and the moon was unusually bright, painting the mountains and unending valley a gleaming silver that stretched as far as the eye could see. There was something soothing about it; in the dark, in the quiet, high on my perch, it felt like I was seeing the world from a distance.

"I was looking for you. You weren't in your office." I looked back to see Eomer approaching. I turned back to my view. He leaned against the fence beside me. "Still vexed with me, I see."

I ignored him. I also reminded myself that if I stabbed him in the face, I wouldn't make it out of Edoras alive.

"Leigh, you have to speak to me at some point," he sighed.

"Is that another order?" I asked coldly.

He stiffened. "I have to do what is best for my people. You know that."

"Oh, don't give me that. This isn't what's best for your people. It's what's best for you," I said disgustedly. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. "Regardless, it doesn't matter. I'll have my letter of resignation on your desk in the morning."

This had him straightening. "Your letter of resignation... you're going back to Gondor?"

Finally, I looked at him. "What did you expect? I'm not one of your subjects that you can order around. I came here to help you rebuild Rohan. I came because you're my friend and you needed me. But you crossed a line today."

"I am asking only for the strength to defend my people," he snapped.

"No. You've already got that. What you're asking me for is the power to intimidate them." I shook my head a little, wondering how he could do this. "Rohan is struggling to feed itself, but you aren't asking me to help them."

"I'm trying to defend the Mark," he repeated angrily. "Winter is coming, and my people aren't the only ones who lack food. The Dunlendings will become desperate, and they've already shown that they will attack us."

"The Dunlendings?" I asked incredulously. "Their weapons are barely above sticks and stones, and they ran to the mountains with their tails between their legs after Helms Deep."

"Is that what I should tell the farmers who will be forced to defend themselves against them? Tell the families of loved ones who die from village raids?" He ran a hand through his hair. "I understand that you come from a world of peace and security, but you are no longer there. When people become desperate, they become dangerous. It is my soldiers that patrol the Riddermark, as I have done myself as Third Marshal, and robberies and raids are only one of a thousand dangerous they face."

"I can give you weapons that would have made Sauron cower before the might of Rohan." There was no anger in my tone, just simple fact. Eomer watched me. "I can give you weapons that could kill hundreds of men before they come within two thousand feet of your own forces, weapons so powerful, destruction so absolute, that you could win a war without one of your own people dying. With me at your side, Eomer King could make Middle Earth howl."

He was silent for a moment. "What do you want of me, Leigh?"

"I want you to be the man we both know you can be." I met his gaze steadily.

He sighed, then leaned against the fence again and gave a little laugh. "You're the one person that can stand up to me. I don't know whether to count that as a blessing or a curse."

I smiled. "It's a curse only when you're being an idiot, Romeo."

"I'm forgiven, then."

I arched an eyebrow. "What makes you think that?"

He turned his head to smile at me. "You don't call me Romeo when you're cross."

I laughed, realizing he was right. "You're forgiven." We were quiet for a moment, but it was a comfortable silence now. "You need something to bring to the table, right? Something that will impress everyone with the might of Rohan," I said dryly.

He arched an eyebrow. "I thought you refused."

"I won't give you weapons, but I have no problem helping you impress people," I corrected impishly. "You're my person. It's my job to make you look good."

"And what do you ask in exchange?" he asked, amused.

I shrugged. "Well, not giving me orders again would be a start," I said dryly.

He laughed and had the decency to look embarrassed. "You have my word."

I smiled and we turned back to the valley. "You know, Gondor is beautiful, but... there's something about this place that defies words. It's almost hauntingly lovely."

"When I was Marshal, I would be gone for weeks, and often would return home weary and heartsick. Yet, every time I came home and saw the Golden Hall gleaming against the mountains, I was filled with this overwhelming sense of pride, and I remembered why I pledged an oath to defend Rohan with my life." He was silent for a moment. "There is a spot in the mountains I go to think. It's little more than a shed, but it has the most magnificent view I've ever seen, and it fills me with such peace, as though time would stand still as long as I was there." He glanced at me. "Mayhap one day I can take you there."

I smiled at him. "If only. Unfortunately, Byrnhorn and Fordwin wouldn't let us hear the end of it if we went off alone together. Rose warned me my first day here about being alone with a man, even if it was just a closed door."

He rolled his eyes. "She was right to do so. A woman's reputation is almost as important as a dowry. Still, perhaps one day."

"Perhaps one day," I agreed.

0o0o0o0o0

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