Notes: As always, I hope you enjoy! Also, as always thank you so much for your feedback. It really does make the writing process easier and makes me look forward to updating. Much appreciated, always.

Life did not settle, as Prince Imrahil had hoped, once Éomer left Minas Tirith. On the contrary, though his daughter was less distracted, and the city back to normal now that the festivities were finished, there was still much to do and nothing to allow for a delay. Now the real work began.

The war on the Easterlings was just beginning and with it came the planning and intricate relocating, allocating, and replacing. Elphir, who was without his hand was set to rule as regent of Belfalas while the rest of the family went to war, but he refused to be left behind, and when he proved he could fight just as well with the limbs he still had remaining, his father allowed that he should join them. Amrothos too refused to consider the regency, and so Lothiriel was to be left in Dol Amroth, with the city at her command. She had thought to beg her way along to the war camp. Unlike the battle of Mordor, a longer campaign meant months away from Gondor and camps always needed those who were good with numbers to keep them running properly. If anything could keep her thoughts from wandering where they had no right to wander, Ella imagined that a camp in the middle of a war might do it. However, when her father came to her and informed her of his decision, Ella knew that there was nothing to ask. Her brothers were bred for battle, and she was bred to follow commands and issue them. She would be one of the most powerful people left in the country, and she was without choice in this matter.

For the next month, Ella was to follow her father around like a shadow, learning everything she did not already know about running the province. The biggest difference between her Father's job and her own were the decisions. They saw the same numbers, they heard the same pleas, and she sat next to him when he held court, but where Ella had always simply provided information and the occasional opinion, now she would be held accountable for every choice she made.

Her Father, meanwhile, focused on setting everything as he wanted it before leaving on the campaign. He was in constant communication with King Elessar and King Éomer, and began to notice that Ella had stopped sending letters to the latter though she did receive several from him. He asked her about this while they ate a private dinner, much past the appropriate time for the meal. She did not tell him the truth, which was unlike her, and only allowed that she had been busy and overwhelmed by their lessons in governance. When the time came to send the next bunch of letters, however, she found she had nothing to write. In big, looping script she wrote 'The weather is nice in Dol Amroth', closed and sealed the letter with wax and sent it.

The reply back was as stilted as the last few had been. In response Ella wrote. 'Weather less nice now. Cold by the water.'. She sealed it and sent it. She did consider sending only blank pages after a while, but though her quill froze over the surface of the parchment when she imagined writing a true letter to the King of Rohan, she did always find something she could say about the weather and it made her feel less guilty. To make up for it, she would send letters of an unseemly length to Éowyn, and since the two were related, it seemed like a proper amount of words for one family to get.

It became clear to Ella that she had not fooled her father, nor eased his concern towards the nature of her relationship with Éomer, whatever it had been and whatever it had become. He introduced her to Prince Darian, Prince of Pelargir only a week after their return to Dol Amroth, and within the month, the two were officially betrothed.

In a letter to her, Éomer wrote. "I was heartily surprised to hear of your betrothal, I had not realized it would come so soon, nor that your father was entertaining offers for your hand. I hope that Prince Darian paid out the nose for his future wife, and I wish you every blessing you deserve. I had hoped we might meet before your wedding, that I may offer my warmest congratulations."

Ella replied: 'There are storms starting to form out on the sea. We had not realized they would come so early this year and it is very worrisome. There are many clouds."

Prince Darian did not pay out the nose for the honour of marring Ella, and neither was her dowry outrageous. It was considered by most to be an exceptionally well matched engagement, and it caused interest for a day or two before it was forgotten.

Indeed Prince Darian was a well-mannered sort, and though Ella did not feel much towards him when they met, she was starting to develop a sort of fondness for him. He had a face that was broad about the cheekbones but lean and simple everywhere else. His was trained in battle, but he was not a warrior when it could be helped. When he took Ella's hand to lead her to dinner, his were barely callused. He was tall and lean and walked with a limp from an injury during the war. He was older than Ella would have liked her husband to be, but not so old as he could have been. He was smart, and gentle with his dogs and servants, Ella didn't mind his company and she liked debating with him. Her Father asked her consent before agreeing to the match and Ella had granted it with an open mind and meant it. She imagined that she and Prince Darian would be happy together. Besides, the wedding would wait until the Easterlings were defeated, and though he was not a warrior, Prince Darian was set to attend the campaign, perhaps in an effort to impress Prince Imrahil, and his sons, who were rather less open to men about their sister after the rumors that had surrounded her friendship with Éomer. This did not seem fair. One was her future husband and one was not.

Ella received a letter from Éowyn which told her of the woman's pregnancy just as the men were set to ride. Three months from the wedding exactly and Éowyn told her that she was beginning to show just slightly, and that she did not care if it was a boy or a girl so long as the child was healthy. She invited Ella to Ithilien once she was 'round as a sweet bun and too portly to do my own errands.' and Ella accepted, even though she was not, in fact, certain that she would be free to leave at that point. She sent her long reply back with the men and retreated to the castle. She did not watch them ride away. She was damned tired of watching people ride away from her.

As she settled herself in her father's large chair, she felt a terrible weight settle over her chest. Terrible and great and it stopped her breath for a moment. She pictured herself learning to swim with her mother who had been half ocean, everyone whispered. She did not remember much about those days before her lady Mother got sick, but this was a memory that she held inside her body. Every sensation had seared itself to her very bones and she could feel the briny water under her skin. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, as Mother had instructed her.

"Breath and you'll float. Do not fight the water, dearest, it will win and drag you down. Breath. Let it be."

Ella could feel the cold water lapping at her feet as she sat there. Her whole body broke out in goosebumps and she remembered how frightening the water had been. It had not been a clear day. It had been grey and choppy and windy, like today. Her mother had been in the water and she had looked serene, as though she swam in a temperate lake.

"Let your air go all the way. Then take a deep breath and dive. Open your eyes, it's a bit of stinging, that's all. The things that are worth can hurt a bit."

Ella exhaled, forcing all her air out in three short pushes. Then when she thought she might explode, she drew the air back into her lungs, deep, deep into her back and sides and forcing her ribs to expand and let it in. She opened her eyes and they stung from tears that did not fall.

Princess Lothiriel, Regent of Dol Amroth and all of Belfalas. Be hard, she commanded herself, but all she saw was ocean. If she could not be like her father, she decided, she would be like her mother.

Eventually, sitting in her father's seat grew easier. She did not wear her crown when she sat and held petitions, and she rarely even wore jewelry. She did not need to, the seat did the work for her. It commanded the room and towered over anyone who approached and though Ella felt small when she sat it, she knew that the figure she became was imposing. Mirella had begun to dress her in darker and heavier fabrics and to tie her hair back tightly at the crown. It all gave Ella a headache but she did all she could to make her father proud, and she did not move until every petitioner was heard. Then she went to the study and began the tedious process of sorting letters and balancing accounts. When that was done, or as done as she could manage, she then moved on to the household management which was thankfully much reduced due to half the household having gone.

In bed, at the end of every day, she read her letters. There was usually at least one but sometimes five or six would arrive in a packet and those were the days she was up past any reasonable hour, devouring the words of her loved ones by the light of a dying candle.

Prince Darian's notes were always perfectly appropriate and affectionate in a way that Ella did not understand. She saw it as a lack of passion for her but she reasoned that being a wordsmith while on a battle ground was not something she required of her husband. There were sweet words in his letters and occasionally Ella let them melt into her heart if only because she was to marry this man, and still she knew so little about him. Her replies to him were similarly appropriate and often shorter than she would have liked. She did not know what he would want to read and often found the end of the letters dragging as she struggled to finish a page.

Éomer on the other hand continued to write her longer and longer letters that grew less stilted and less moderate as the campaign passed three months and started to bleed into four and then five. Her replies in turn also grew long and winding and though she mostly began with the weather, she started to note that they were returning to a sort of conversation that they had not had since before she had kissed him. It helped her breath sometimes, when she thought of their friendship being reforged, but letters were not deeds, and she knew she should not allow ink on a page to control her so completely.

Amrothos too wrote letters like mazes. One story turned into two stories, turned into four and ended with the first story once more. Often Ella lost track of the thread binding all his words together, but she did not mind and sometimes slept with her brother's words under her pillow when she was loneliest, which was often now that she was truly aware of the solitude her family had left her in. She did not mention this in any of her letters in return. Amrothos sounded happy and busy and she knew that battle suited him but she wanted desperately to have him home again so he could brighten up the halls of Dol Amroth.

In the bundle that carried their letter was another from Éowyn, reminding Ella to ride to Ithilien and tend to her soon as her time was drawing near. Faramir still remained in Ithilien, but Éowyn was adamant that she wanted a woman there, and particularly one who would not faint at the sight of blood. 'And if you do,' warned the letter, 'I will remind you of it at every opportunity, and there will be a great deal of birthdays, I'm told.'

Ella soon grew anxious as she realized she would still hold the seat of regent when Éowyn's time came, and she was not sure she could leave the woman when she carried so much of her heart with her and her child. She did not think, despite the precarious nature of their friendship, that she could look Éomer in the eyes if she left his sister to bear her labour alone.

Riders came almost every day from the battle front and they assured her each time that the war would be over soon and that the Easterlings could not withstand their forces, and every day Ella asked, 'When?' and after a while hearing 'Soon' wasn't enough.

She wrote to her Father, brothers, and Éomer all separately and threatened to ride to the front lines and end the war herself if they could not do the job as they had promised her. Éomer's letter came back the fastest, and she imagined that he had read her own and marched into his tent to reply before the same rider left.

Dearest, Ella,

The war is all but over and I couldn't vouch for any excitement you would gain from riding here. The nights are turned icy and the days drag grey and bitter and makes one wish for snow to end our suffering. I promise, Princess, that I will have those you love returned to you before the moon wanes, and I swear even more deeply that they will be unscathed and unscarred. I ask only that you remain where it is safe and wait for our arrival before riding out to meet my sister through lands that might well have deserters roaming through them.

I know your Father and Brothers would beg the same of you. Ella. DO NOT RIDE. I swear to you that we will be home in time to accompany you. I personally will escort you. Simply wait and see that this fighting will not last. Once more Ella, do not ride. Wait. It will all be over soon.

Yours,

Éomer

She replied:

'Mine' Éomer,

The weather in Dol Amroth is bad for riding and worse for boats. I would start to walk if I thought I could get to Ithilien any faster that waiting out this storm. If I was not already of a mind to ride by the end of the week, I would certainly be of it now, having read your letter. I am damned tired of waiting. And I am particularly tired of waiting on you all who would rather fight in the sleet and the frigid rain than finish your business and return to your waiting wives and women and families. Mark my words, Éomer, I will not wait another month. I want my family returned to me and I want to ride to help yours grown. End this nonsense as you should have done months ago. It is not nice to play with your enemies.

-Ella

His reply was short and curt:

Ella,

No one is playing with anyone. I don't understand what you think I, personally, am doing to slow this campaign but perhaps it is best that you do not say it, as I doubt I would find it flattering. I am doing all I can. Let that be enough, princess.

-Éomer, King of Rohan

She fumed:

Don't you King me,

I warned you, I ride on day after the full moon. Safe or not, your sister will give birth and I would like to know that her child is safely come into this world, and that the world indeed is safe for the child. Tell the damned fool men that run this campaign and I am sick of war, I am sick of loneliness and I am sick of not being happy. I do not see why we must keep killing and losing lives to ensure that there will be no more killing and losing of lives. I want to live in peace and be with those I love. That is all. Bring my family home safe. It is all I ask of you. I won't write you another angry letter,. I won't bother you again. I won't even blink in your direction. Just bring them back to me.

-Ella

Ella,

If only you knew how wrong you were about what I might want from you. Wait just one more week to ride. We are coming home.

-Éomer

Dearest Éomer,

Thank you. I will wait a week. No longer.

Your most grateful,

-Ella

My dearest Ella,

Do not thank me yet. Not yet. Wait for us.

Yours,

-Éomer