Notes: Nothing too crazy to note here. A little flash forward. Thank you to the wonderful people who comment and like, I really appreciate it. I hope everyone is still enjoying!

"My Lady."

Princes Lothiriel looked up at the rider, blinking tired eyes at him. He shifted into view as her head adjusted to the difference between people and columns of numbers. A weathered man, covered in dust and lean from riding.

"You asked to be notified if any riders appeared?"

She did, so this was not a question. It was nervousness talking. The man in front of her was a bit grizzled. He shifted from foot to foot in her presence but his voice was rough and his accent from some western province. She wanted to put him at ease but didn't know where to start. He didn't come out with the fact there were riders in the distance because he did not think he could address her directly. Ella wanted to sigh, but she didn't. It was not his fault this would take twice as long. With the younger scouts she could smile and gently touch their shoulders. This man was her father's age, and like her father he did not seem like a man who would brook being gentled like a dog.

"And they have?"

Wedding guests, she assumed. Her own family had returned from Dol Amroth to Minas Tirith only a month before. She was expecting families from all the provinces and from several other countries to start streaming in, and they had, in a trickles at first but then in waves.

No bride though, which had started to bother Ella's sleep. No bride. No bridal family. No wedding without a bride.

"Yes'm."

"Where did they hail from?"

"We did not speak with them Princess, I was told to ride at once."

She pressed her lips together and took in a deep breath. She wished he had stayed until he had seen the standard of the riding party. She wished she could tell him that was what she had expected from the men posted at the perimeter of the city. She wanted to tell him that her spies, half of them children, could provide her better information that he. She didn't. She said aloud none of what she thought.

"My Lady?"

Ella realized she had been sitting and thinking without a word for far too long.

"Yes?"

"Their riders- I-"

She looked up suddenly, her eyes hungry for the information he held. If the man was startled by the change, he did not say so. He only took a breath and continued.

"They were horse-men. From Rohan. I rode behind their caravan in the Battle of Mordor. I would recognize their riding anywhere."

Ella stood up abruptly, her face changing from it's polite blankness to something decidedly more alert. Something almost hungry. She forgot to dismiss the man who then followed her all the way to the stables. He didn't seem to know if he was free to go or not as she saddled her mount. He still didn't seem to understand as she tucked her skirts around her and swung herself up, calling for the gates to be opened. In fact, to his credit, the man managed to find a mount and catch up to her when she was almost beyond the city's perimeter, and Ella was not riding slowly. To his further credit, he did not aim to stop her, only to attend to his duty.

Ella thought for a moment that the man must be mistaken. The party of riders was smaller than she expected and they rode like they were on a mission. Their standards were not up, though she could see that a few riders were falling behind, trying to raise the flag without having to stop. She caught sight of the white horse and whooped, spurring her horse forward and letting the beast have it's head. She felt like she rode on the wind itself.

It had been a year since she had seen the children of Éomund. She could not wait a moment longer.

A year was long and dull amount of time but Ella was getting very good at waiting. She did not imagine, a year ago, that the time would ever come to an end. In fact, she did not think at all of what that ending might be. It seemed to her as she watched the days tick by, that she was waiting for an hour glass to empty that had been overfilled. The sand would never trickle away.

She had dreaded the morning, and still it had come. Cool and clear and good for riding. The sort of day that promised something. I wish it would storm. Ella had thought, but it did not so she dressed and ate slowly, thinking perhaps she could complain of her injuries causing her to stay abed. She frowned at her own reflection and left her rooms before her thoughts got any more ridiculous. She found herself delaying her steps until she could delay no more.

The hallways were almost empty and her steps rang like bell. She stopped for a moment to examine her shoes. Did they always ring so loud and the bustle of the hallway drowned them out or had she simply never noticed them before? Should she get new shoes?

You're just delaying the inevitable. She thought bitterly to herself. They will leave whether or not you come to the gates. That is not going to change. It might make you feel better if you went. You'll regret it if you don't. She knew it was true.

"Ella!"

Of all the people sent to gather her it was rare for a King to do it.

"I'm sorry." She said instantly, "I didn't want to come."

Éomer's face filled with confusion, then a flash of hurt, then understanding. "It will not be good-bye forever."

"No," She said, "but I had hoped that I would be done with goodbyes after the war."

"And I too."

"I would have thought goodbyes would get easier as they became more numerous."

"And they have not?"

"No. Not the ones that matter."

There was silence then. She held herself strong and upright. Like Éowyn would have.

"I was not sent to get you." He said. "I asked to."

"That's kind of you." Ella found she was frozen in place. If they did not move, indeed if they talked forever then she might not lose those who had burrowed their way so deep into her heart. She had not expected to find them there, these cold horse-people from months before, and yet they were branded on her very soul. She could not shake the feeling that if they left, she might never again see them.

"I will miss you, Ella."

She wanted to say: 'Don't miss me. Don't go' but she was a princess, born and raised and she knew that missing her was only an itch and ruling was all consuming. She wanted to say 'Stay with me' but instead she took his hands. She longed to tell him that he could live with her and her family. That he would be like family. They were both silent and her hands went from his to his chest. 'You are buried in my heart.' She wanted to tell him, and she found his arms were around her too. Her horse king who had been so slow in the field that first day and so quick to help her. Who had become so many things to her. 'I hate you.' She wanted to tell him, her head tucked under his chin. 'I do not know how to lose you.' She thought of his sister who was like her sister. Who had pulled her from the wall when she was like to die. She thought of the two of them. How much she loved them. She lifted herself high on her toes and pressed her lips to his. He did not jerk away, though his hands moved in surprise before he kissed her back and they stayed for only a moment, her just barely on her toes and him bent down just a bit, before pulling away, neither sure what exactly had happened.

"I will miss you too, Éomer, King. Be sure to bring your sister back in time for the wedding. I shan't take any excuses." Her eyes stayed fixed to the floor as she mumbled and she ran from him, though she should not have been running and it hurt. She should not have been kissing foreign dignitaries either, though, so what was one more infraction?

Ella reflected, as she rode like a fool, that she had not spoken to Éomer since that day. That she had stood with her father, her head bowed, and she had not one looked at him and now she did not know if he would look at her. Sure, their letters back and forth were pure diplomacy, weather and family and reminders of the wedding. I have kissed you and I do not understand what that means. But there was no room in letters for that nonsense.

She forced such thoughts from her head as she approached the riding party, squinting her eyes to make out the white horse of their standard. "You're late." She called, over the howl of the wind in her ears.

"We are fast riders, Milady."

"And we are fast planters, Your Majesty, but still we do not wait until the last day of the season to plow the fields."

She turned her mare tightly and began to ride back to the gates, expecting in the way that princesses do that she would be followed. Not by the whole party, certainly, but by it's leaders. She could hear Éowyn behind her and she imagined the face she was making at her brother. She imagined the way the girl managed to say 'I told you so' without having truly to say a word. Unless the Lady of Rohan was rolling her eyes at Ella. Perhaps she was saying 'we should not have come back.'

Ella turned slightly to see if she could catch them and interpret what they meant by their silence.

Éomer had a wicked grin on his face as he spurred Firefoot to a gallop and before Ella could veer from his path he had snatched the reins and was pulling Ella from her path. Her mare was following Éomer willingly, the beast knew who the better rider was and Ella was just along for the ride.

"Éomer!"

"I can't hear you over the wind, princess."

"I'll scream louder then."

"Please do try."

This was not how kings behaved. Even Aragorn who seemed strange to Ella was well behaved and kind and good. Ella tried not to start laughing just to prove a point, but they were riding so fast, and she was half terrified and half exhilarated and she did not think Éomer knew where they were going and she certainly did not either, so she didn't imagine they would know if and when they got there which meant a great deal of riding which Ella didn't have time for. She doubted Éomer had time for it either, and still their horses were sprinting and the two of them were laughing.

She was starting to think that Éomer didn't know where to go, and was perhaps too stubborn to admit it. They were miles from the city walls and she could see the city in the distance, but certainly not anyone in particular. Minas Tirith could be seen for miles and miles and so she wasn't sure of the specific location they had arrived at. The horses were tired, and when she reached for Éomer's hand, and told him that she was sore and needed a rest, he immediately stopped their flight and his face dropped it's smile and turned into dark concern. The King of Rohan jumped from his mount and reached up to gently help the Princess from her own.

"You said you were recovered." He said, and to Ella it sounded like an accusation.

"I am." She said, "I will not start to bleed from my head or my back or my arm, and so, I am recovered. I did not expect-"

"El-"

"There has not been much time for riding-"

"El-"

"My name is very short on your tongue."

"I worried for you."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you!"

"El!"

They both stopped for a moment. Ella realized quickly and with no small amount of shock that she was alone with Éomer. She was not within the walls of Minas Tirith, she was not within the care of her people and she was alone with a man she had kissed... And she was yelling at him. For caring.

Perhaps at the same moment, Éomer too who had looked amused after he had looked uncertain, no longer looked amused, and so the two were stuck, neither knowing just what to say. Ella looked helplessly at Éomer and he studied her, as was his disconcerting habit which she had forgotten in their year apart, only to realize she was not sure she liked it, now that they were once more close enough to study each other.

"I think I'd like you to kiss me. I would like to stop thinking for a moment." Her brow was furrowed like she wasn't really sure and she was looking at him like she had never seen him before, like he was a novelty in front of her, and she did not know how one treated novelties.

He liked that were was something she was not sure about and so he kissed her. He kissed her softly at first, in case she had misspoken, or like in other things, changed her mind. Then she did not protest and he knew he was not hurting her because she was 'recovered' and so he kissed her again. Her hair was tangled from the ride and caught in his fingers and she was soft and clumsy and sweet. She was a girl who had not been kissed before. He felt, perhaps that it should bother him. That she might need to kiss other men before she could decide who she wanted kissing her, but he did not say anything. He could not tell who pulled away first but neither of them seemed to be able to think much of anything.

"My Father will be worried." Her eyes were dancing and searching and her hands were over her lips like they were finding something new for the first time.

"He should be. Your horse bolted so quickly this afternoon. If it weren't for me, you could be all the way in Dale by now."

"You're a hero, King Éomer."

"I hope your horse makes a habit of bolting, Princess. I could do with a fair few more heroics."

She knew this was flirting, and she imagined it meant that he wanted to kiss her again. She imagined that if they wanted to, they might meet in hallways and share a moment and no one would ever know. She imagined this, but she was not sure, and she hated being unsure about anything.

"Then you want to kiss me again, King?"

"I might even do it without your asking."

She grinned and said nothing, turning her back to him and gathering their horses from the stream they had found.

When he tried to help her up, she refused him. Proudly she mounted liking she was proving she was as strong and able as she had ever been before. She didn't let him touch her reins.

There had been girls in Edoras, girls in inns, and girls even in Gondor who had been kind and pretty. There had been girls who he thought of fondly and who had kissed prettily. Ladies with sweet voices and soft hands. There had been women who had needed nothing from him but a drink and a dance and there had been some he could only remember as a scent, or a word or a song.

There had never been a girl like her.

There had been boys with kind eyes and gentle words. Princes from her own country who understood Gondor's ways, who had offered fortunes to marry her and who had demanded only her hand. Not even her heart. Just her hand. There had been courtiers who had danced with her like they were telling her all she needed to know to be happy. There had been soldiers who had promised her the moon in exchange for her love.

But there had never been a man like him.