Notes: Next update will be the Faramir/ Eowyn wedding, which I'm pretty excited about. Hope you enjoy this chapter!
Also, as someone mentioned in the reviews, sometimes my grammar starts to go, or I don't notice something before posting because i want to get it up as quickly as possible and I don't have a beta reader. if you notice something please don't hesitate to mention it if it bothers you!

Lothiriel's father was very concerned to hear that her horse had bolted in the middle of an open field. The mare was impeccably bred and even more impeccably trained, if she had been bigger she might have made a good war horse. Ella assured her father that Lightning was, as ever, the perfect horse and perhaps sensing that her mistress had been injured for so long, was more likely to be cautious when approached by strange horses and their even stranger riders. Prince Imrahil did not seem to like this excuse but he accepted it. Ella had the sneaking suspicion that he did not truly believe it and he seemed to examine the king of Rohan with particularly keen eyes. She could not decipher the meaning behind them. Regardless, he greeted King Éomer like a long lost son and her brothers too did nothing to break the illusion. This was their war brother, home from his own home, they did not care what had happened, so long as their sister was home safe and their war brother healthy and hale.

Ella, on the other hand, was having a difficult time keeping her head on straight. She had agreed without exception to handle the wedding that was now only a little over a week away, but on top of those responsibilities, she now had a great deal of kissing to think about which proved a greater distraction than she had expected any single thought to be. Furthermore, as her brothers prepared to attend the wedding and then retreat to their own homes, she found herself taking on more of the accounting for Dol Amroth, and more of the responsibilities. Only Amrothos was staying in their home province and he was restless and dismissive of her when he got in his moods, feeling left behind and like the youngest child, and those moods had gotten worse and worse of late. Ella did not know how to make her brother happy, nor how to tell him how unhappy he was making her. She did not want him to leave, then she would be all alone in their great city.

Now with the bride in Minas Tirith, the wedding preparations truly took hold of the people who were easily as raucous as they had been when King Aragorn had married Queen Arwen. Ella privately thought that the people were louder and cared more. King Aragorn and Queen Arwen were good and the city loved them, but they did not know them. They knew and cared for Faramir deeply and tenderly and his chosen bride was thought brave and strong and beautiful. It was not the same.

Éowyn, for her part was playing the blushing bride terribly. She promised Ella that if she made her try on even one more dress with a corset of any kind that she would call off the wedding, take Faramir, and ask a goatherd to marry them. Ella thought was actually a marvellous plan as it would save the treasury a good amount of gold. Instead she gently reminded Éowyn that she could have been here a month ago and had the dress done and exactly to her liking, but she had not and now there was a week left and Ella wasn't particularly interested in hearing Éowyn disparage Gondorian fashion yet again, as not everyone had the figure for unlaced sacks of silk with a single belt around them.

Ella had not told Éowyn what had happened on her ride with Éomer and the girl had not asked, though Ella imagined that she either knew or guessed and did not think it was her business. She wanted mostly for Éowyn to make it her business since Ella, who had been very calm about it when it happened was decidedly less calm now since she had not seen Éomer for three days and was worried he was avoiding her. If he was, she resolved, she would talk to him and ask him to stop behaving like a child. If she could bring herself to talk at all which was not likely, since she could not do it unless they were alone, and neither of them were ever alone.

Ten days bled into five, which bled into three, which became the night before. All argument faded into the ether as the two girls watched the sun set over glasses of wine.

The two wouldn't be alone for long. There were things women did before one of their own made their vows, just like there were things that were done when a girl first bled, and when she first took or gave life. It was how things were, and Éowyn, who didn't have any female family had submitted herself to Ella's. While they waited, they opened the window and straddled the window frame, giggling at the height below and holding their hands to the beautiful sunset as if they could leave their fingerprints somewhere in the vivid colours. The wine was fruity and rich and they were both happy, and free. Their dresses were unbelted and unstayed, the loose pale dresses of summer children, of girls, with low, dipping, backs and short hems that ended below the knees and above the calves. Things peasant girls wore during summer festivals, things ladies wore only when they had a good excuse.

Among the women, Ella did not mind that her criss-crossed skin could be seen, the scars now pale pink and luminous against her darker skin. She knew that Mira, Elphir's wife had white scars on her stomach from the birth of their children, and Lorella, Erchirion's wife had them on her belly and thighs and arms. One did not grow as strong as Lorella and not have scars to show. She saw the scars that Éowyn carried on her stiff arm. In their company, Ella did not feel alone or ashamed. She had earned her scars like all of them.

The women fell, giggling from Éowyn's quarters, wrapping shawls and scarves around them like flowers and their petals. There was no jewelry though, no gold, no silver, no precious stones. It was how these things were done. The maidens of the wedding party must be without adornment, without anchors. More wine. Ella couldn't stop laughing.

When they finished their pitcher of wine, another was brought. Then cider, and then ale. There was music, and there was laughter and dancing. They had gone to the gardens, low in the keep and kept cool, the greenery here was dark and lush. Lanterns had been hung and there was food, and always more drink but otherwise there were no decorations, just twinkling lights and the moon high, high above them.

The men came in a less decorative fashion. Faramir and Éomer and Amrothos first, who turned the ladies' dancing into twirling hugs, feet kicking above the ground. Then came Elphir and Erchiron, less wine soaked, and less boisterous as they found their wives, and laughed about their own history, the nights before their own weddings. Ella had never been to one of these before. She had been too young when her brothers were married, and then weddings had been small and intimate when times had been darker. She had not realized that men would come to join them, and if she had she might have covered her back in more than a shawl before coming to the gardens, or tied her hair up. Perhaps, she thought, this is why they had not been told. She could see that all the men likewise carried no ornaments, and that they were dressed simply too. Around the perimeter away from the younger folks who were dancing and celebrating were those like her brothers, who watched carefully, lest anything get out of hand. They did not look specifically to her, but she shrank from dancing anyway, and put down her cup of wine.

The night was too pretty to stay apart forever. She did not mind taking a rest. When, she wondered, had the night been so pretty? When had the world been this kind to them? Never, she thought, never, never, never.

"Tired, Princess?"

Ella jumped and before thinking too much of it she hit Éomer's chest. "You scared me."

"I'm sorry." But he didn't look sorry. He never looked sorry at all but certainly not now. Ella tightened her shawl against his eyes, her face flushing pink. "I didn't think I'd scare you."

"I was lost in the stars."

He tilted his head up to look at the same night sky as her, and she chided herself for letting her cheeks grow pink. What sort of silliness was that? "I cannot reach them." He dropped his chin and grinned at her. A year ago she could not have imagined being the cause of his smile. She could not have imagined such a grim man choosing her to smile at. She could not have imagined this. She stopped pulling at her shawl, stopped treating it like a barrier.

"Perhaps you need to drink more."

"No." His refusal was not harsh. He was looking at her like he wanted to drink her up instead. "How can you make it all the way up there? It must be lonely being alone with the stars."

"I'm not sure. I just try. I don't mind it. I'm not afraid of being alone."

He reached over and took her hands, "You're lying."

"How do you know?"

"You smile your 'princess' smile."

"That's not true"

"It is."

"I don't want it to be true."

"You are not alone, princess."

"No," she said, her hands holding his tightly, "not right now."

"You won't be."

"That's not true."

"I won't let you be. I won't let you feel alone."

He looked at her in such a way that she almost believed him and it broke her heart. She wondered if this was how Éowyn had felt when Ella had promised never to let her feel sadness again. She glanced over at her brothers, who were not looking at her. She felt the weight of the wine on her lips and limbs and the pretty haze it made in her head.

"I need air. Come walk with me."

If he was bothered that she did not reply to his promise, he did not show it. He stood and offered her his hand again, and she took it. Now she could feel eyes on them. Though she knew that he must have had at least as much to drink as her, Éomer walked in a straight line. She could only tell he had been drinking from his grip on her hand and the way his other hand found her lower back to keep her walking forward. She knew her brothers were watching but neither they nor Éomer seemed to mind much. Ella wanted to say something to Éowyn but she was wrapped around Faramir, their foreheads pressed together, lost in each other. Ella felt something in her stomach tighten. She didn't think their love story had begun with Éowyn begging Faramir to kiss her.

Begging was a strong word, she thought, asking didn't make her feel better. His hand in hers made her feel better. The wine made her feel better.

They ended up on the east tower, the same tower Ella had watched Mordor from. Now there was nothing to look for, only things that had been returned to her. Only things to hold close.

"Éomer?" The wind was rough up here, it pulled at her dress and her hair and she let it take her shawl away over the walls. She turned to make sure he was still there. He was. He put his arms around her so she would not go flying.

"Is this enough air for you?"

She grinned at him, "No. Yes. Not when you're so close to me."

"Should I let go?"

"No."

She could feel his hands tracing her back. Gently and with infinite patience he found the scars she had tried to hide. Some were small and hidden, others ran long and deep and still pained her when the nights grew cold. She didn't try to stop him. The Prince she might eventually marry probably would not want his bride to carry scars, but Éomer was a warrior and he would understand. He carried his own scars, she had seen them. He dipped his head down and kissed the scar on her shoulder. She closed her eyes tightly around the haziness of the wine and tried to keep this memory. She tried to keep it fresh in her mind. She wasn't brave enough to return the gesture but her fingers still twined in his shirt. Would her future prince make her feel like she was flying too?

"We should go back, They'll wonder where we are."

But she knew he meant, they'll wonder what we're doing so she nodded but neither of them moved. She didn't ask this time, just tipped her face up to his and he knew to kiss her. Now she could taste the wine on him and he moved slowly to make sure he was not clumsy. They were so high up and the air tasted different up here. She wanted to ask him if he was kissing her because she had asked him to get air. If he kissed her because she had tilted her head just so and invited him to do it or because he wanted to. She wondered if he saw her freckles and her eyes and her lips and cheeks and all that made her who she was, and put it all together into someone a man would desire. No. Something more than someone to be desired. Someone to be cared about. Someone to be loved. Love was a big word. One she had never used for anyone she kissed or imagined kissing, or even knew she would have to kiss when she married. Not love then, but whatever came before it. In that case she wondered if he saw her stubborn streak, her laughter, her ferocity, her loneliness. She was many things. She wanted him to want those things. She pulled away slightly, her eyes laughing.

"Dance with me."

"Are we going back?"

"No. I don't want to. I want to stay up here."

"You want to dance up here?"

"Yes."

"I am not much for dancing. Left-footed." He combed his fingers through his blond hair, Ella could see the way he shifted from foot to foot. He was muscled and large and tall, and she had never seen him move in a way that was not confident. Did they not dance in Rohan? She should ask him, but if they did and he was not good at it then it wouldn't be a very nice question. It was possible they did not and he had never learned how to. That wouldn't be nice to bring up either.

"I don't care. No one is up here." She grinned and did a little spin, then she did another one just to watch her dress twirl around her again and because it felt nice on her warm skin to invite the breeze against her. "I just want you to dance with me."

He laughed and pulled her close, his hand pressed against her lower back. She put her hands on the back of his neck and shifted to one side, then the other. He moved like he was made of wood and it made her like him more. She wondered if Éowyn was as bad at dancing as her brother. She hoped so. She liked people who were not perfect. She fell in love with their flaws.

Not love. She did not love Éomer, and she could not. The wine was speaking. It was only the wine. Not her. Just the wine.

Dancing was mostly holding, and holding was mostly laughing and kissing. This was an addiction that Ella had not realized a person could form. Being held by someone was nice, and having him to claim as her own was nicer. It was worse than the wine. It didn't let up even after hours had passed.

It was almost daybreak when the two stumbled back down to the garden. The sky was just barely starting to go grey. There were no comments on their red lips and mussed hair. Ella knew what it looked like but she didn't know how to make it not look like that, and it wasn't. Only, she didn't know how to make herself stop smiling or stop looking for him in the crowd. Even though she knew she shouldn't she accepted more wine which made her sink deeper into softness and darkness.

She woke hours later, the sun shining onto her and Éowyn who was sprawled onto her bed, her blond hair strewn over her open mouth. Ella would have laughed if her head was not aching so. She wanted water, and she needed food. She needed to get Éowyn awake and moving and she didn't want to do anything except go back to sleep. Instead she rolled out of bed and stumbled to the water jug that had been laid out for them next to a basin for washing.

"Éowyn."

When she got no response, Ella tried again, louder this time. "Éowyn."

"No."

"You're getting married. You must leave the bed. I've made many things move that were once immobile for this one day, but I cannot have you married in my bed. It would be improper."

Éowyn began to laugh and that at least got her from the bed. "That would be improper? What would the Princess of Dol Amroth call disappearing with the bride's brother for half of the night?"

Ella almost choked on her water. This hardly seemed fair, considering the amount of looks exchanged between Éowyn and Faramir she had tactfully ignored. She had hoped Éowyn would do her a similar courtesy. "Dancing?"

"Dancing?"

"It was simply that. Dancing. I made him dance with me, but I was too shy to do it where everyone could see."

"And you made my brother dance for hours?"

"He was terrible."

"Ella..." Unlike Ella, Éowyn still looked fresh, she moved to take Ella's cup and drank deep.

"And we kissed."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

"And nothing more?"

"Nothing. I swear it."

"Would you tell me if it was more?"

Ella considered this, but wasn't sure if she could answer truthfully, she could feel that traitorous blush creep up on her cheeks. "I'm not sure. I think so... But, we should not talk about it now. You must bathe and get dressed and marry my cousin and-"

"El-"

Éowyn took Ella's hands in hers, her eyes unreadable but searching in the way they did. Nothing that was untrue could make it past her gaze. Ella for her own part did not look away. The mire of emotions she carried in the pit of her stomach settled for a moment. Éowyn knew her brother and Ella trusted her above almost everyone else. When she spoke, Ella listened.

"My brother is not a cruel man." Éowyn's voice was soft but firm, she pressed her hand against Ella's brow, "And he does not play games. Whatever you do now, consider it real. Consider it a mark of his feelings to you and yours for him. If you wish to kiss him again, know that you do not do it as a child, but as a Princess and a woman. Know that there is a point where such affection begins to bind you in heart and mind."

Ella was silent, and she knew Éowyn was right. She knew it had already started. That it had started long before she had pressed her lips to his.

"You are not a child, Ella. Such things are not wrong."

"No." Ella gave Éowyn a wry grin as she pulled away. She reached her hands into the basin of water. "But I am not a great king's wife either. So they are not particularly right, are they?" Before Éowyn could answer, Ella plunged her head deep into the water.