A/N: I am not J. R. R. Tolkien. I do not want any monetary compensation for this story.

Thank you to nika, BrightWatcher, coffeebookchiller, EugeniaVictoria, and Catspector for reviewing! I loved reading your comments.

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"Lady Lothiriel," Eomer King's voice was stern and cold. "Were you unaware that it is against our laws to go armed in Meduseld with out the permission of the King?"

"My lord?" Lothiriel asked, honestly confused. Then a look of comprehension dawned on her face and she looked down at the knife she had tucked into her boot that was now revealed by the slit riding skirts she wore. "Oh." She paused as she tried to frame her answer in a way the King would understand. How to explain this habit… she wondered, and was about to answer when Amrothos cut in.

"Is that the knife?" He asked, and when she nodded he turned to his friend. "Eomer, Lothiriel means no harm by this, I swear it. It has been fifteen years since I've seen her anywhere with out it. When she was a child I -"

"Amrothos!" Lothiriel exclaimed, dismayed that her brother would tell this story in front of so many people.

"Please continue," Eomer asked of Amrothos, ignoring the glare his sister gave him and the betrayed look on Lothiriel's face. "When she was a child…" he prompted when Amrothos hesitated.

Lothiriel put down the saddlebag she had been carrying. It looked like Eowyn and she would not get their ride this afternoon.

"You started this story brother, please continue." She said, her voice dangerously gentle.

"Our mother died when Lothiriel was five –"

"Four." Lothiriel corrected. "It was the day before my birthday."

"Four," Amrothos agreed, and went on. "A month or two prior the healer told father that mother had lost the ability to fight her disease. Lothiriel must have over heard some how, for later that afternoon father and Elphir found her trying to lift father's broadsword off its rack. 'What are you doing?' father asked her. 'Mother cannot fight her disease any more, so I will fight it for her,' was Lothiriel's reply."

Mercifully the others in the Great Hall did not laugh at this point, as so many of the Gondorian nobles who heard this story did. Lothiriel's color was flushed, but she held her head proudly.

"What happened then?" Eomer asked, when Amrothos paused in his story.

"I was sent to the healers." Lothiriel answered in a forced even voice. "I wound bandages and ran errands for two years before I was brave enough to ask how crushing herbs was the same as fighting an enemy. The healers by that point no longer treated me like glass and started to teach me how to apply what I was learning."

"And the knife?" Eomer prompted. Lothiriel nodded at Amrothos.

"Elphir gave it to her on her sixth birthday. 'So you'll have something more your size to fight with.' I think he said."

"Close enough," Lothiriel said with a small quirk of a smile.

"You can use a knife?" Eomer asked of Lothiriel. "Show us," he demanded when she nodded.

"My lord has just told me that to go armed is against the law in Meduseld. May I request that we move to the practice fields at least, since I do not know what drawing a weapon in this Hall will bring upon me?"

"That is fair. Shall we?" Eomer indicated with his hand, and Lothiriel turned to pick up the bag she put on the ground, only to find that Eowyn had been quicker. Eowyn was handing the bag Lothiriel packed, and the one she packed to a servant, who nodded and went in the direction of the stables.

"I will not give up hope of our afternoon ride yet," Eowyn whispered as she came up to Lothiriel's side. "I do not know why Eomer is pushing this. He must know that we all carry weapons hidden on our body, as would any sane person who lived through the last few years."

Lothiriel smiled at her friend as she felt a tightness in her chest loosen, relieved that her friend was not repulsed by her strange habit.

They walked to the practice courts in comfortable silence. A crowd had magically appeared around one court where a target was set up. Eowyn looked closely at her friend. "I could try to make them leave if you wanted." She stated.

"It will be alright." Lothiriel reassured her friend. "Thank you for the thought though."

"Are you that good?" Eowyn asked with a sly smile. Lothiriel returned the smile and stepped out into the court. Eomer and Amrothos stood by the target.

"My lord, what is the farthest a knife has been thrown in Rohan?" Lothiriel asked as she walked towards the target.

"We do not specialize in throwing knives, Lady Lothiriel, but it is probably about ten yards."

Lothiriel nodded and moved to stand approximately five yards from the target. She stretched a little bit then bent to remove her knife from her boot. She paused for a second to feel the earth beneath her boots and the light breeze in the air. Without warning her arm flew up and the knife struck the center of the target, faster than the eye could follow.

"Again." Lothiriel stated and walked a half a yard back. One of the servants ran to retrieve the knife from the target, and brought it to her. After she thanked him she threw with the same blurred motion and deadly accuracy. The process repeated. Lothriel backed up to six yards, then seven. At eight yards she started spinning as she threw, her motion as graceful as any dancer's twirl. The crowd was watching silently as at nine and a half yards threw the knife directly into the center of the target.

This time, when the servant returned her knife she did not throw, but waited for judgment from Eomer.

"At what distance do you start missing the target?" Eowyn had come up quietly to Lothiriel's side.

"After ten and a half yards I no longer hit it center every time. After twelve yards I no longer hit the target accurately. I have yet to make my knife reach it at thirteen yards – it simply falls short." Lothiriel replied softly.

"As soon as the crowd leaves, will you show me?"

Lothiriel nodded absently as Eomer had stopped discussing with his counselors and moved to the center of the training field.

"Our laws state that no guest is to go armed before the court of Meduseld. However, we judge that based on her skill at throwing, her sentimental attachment to the knife, and her professed loyalty to Gondor, and by extension to Rohan, that there is no harm in allowing the Lady Lothiriel this one small weapon."

Lothiriel curtseyed. "Thank you, my Lord" she said, truly grateful. "Thank you." When Lothiriel lifted her eyes to smile up at Eomer, she was surprised to see a puzzled look cross his face. The moment passed and Eomer beckoned his men to follow him away from the training yard. The crowd similarly dispersed their own ways, and with in a span of ten minutes, Eowyn and Lothiriel stood alone.

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Eomer thought of a question he wanted to ask Eowyn and so returned to the practice fields. There was the sound of a knife flying through the air and the slight thump as it struck.

"See, even as I said Eowyn." Lothiriel's voice was light and seemed to float over the air. "At twelve yards I stop hitting the target accurately."

"But you were not far off. Look, but a hand length away from the middle circle."

"Far enough to mean the difference between life and death. Not close enough, I still have much to learn."

Eomer turned the corner to see Lothiriel and Eowyn were standing by the target. Lothiriel pulled her knife from the target, and then laughed a little. "Look, Eowyn, this is how close I used to stand to the target." She took a small step away.

Eowyn laughed in response. "How old were you?"

"Six. The training master told me that he had no time to train little princesses, but he set up a target as high as he did for the other young lads and told me to stand as close as I need to so I could not miss the target. 'Stand where you can hit the circle every time, and throw the knife thirty times into the middle circle. Then step back one step. Hit the circle thirty times, and move back a step again.'" Lothiriel looked at the target, but seemed to be seeing a different one.

"Did you do as he said?" Eowyn asked.

"Oh yes." Lothiriel shook her head as if shaking off a memory. "Every day I went down to the training field and threw until my arms shook. Then I went to the healers. Then I went to my lessons. And then I went back to the practice fields and threw in the dying light. I was a rather serious child."

"So were all children born in this time."

"Not all children." Lothiriel smiled. "You will meet some who led rather different lives than we, they are among those coming to your engagement party."

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading so far. I cannot wait until I've stopped moving and have consistent places to update and respond to reviews. This is a short chapter, but it ties up the loose plot points before the good stuff happens.

I will be back at the first of next month at the latest.

As always; questions, thoughts, and comments are more than welcome. Thank you!