A/N: I apologize. This was far too long of a gap. I will do better next month!
As always, I am not J. R. R. Tolkien, and I have no desire to make money from this story.
And I would like to thank Christmas 95, coffeebookchiller, kfirey, Catspector, BrightWatcher, and anthi35 for reviewing and encouraging me with this story.
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"Again!"
Eomer was startled by the cry of what sounded like a small herd of children. He paused outside the room the sound was coming from, wondering what was so strange.
"Again! Play it again!"
They were speaking in Western! Eomer realized this with a small shock, and turned to open the door the tiniest bit. He saw Princess Lothiriel sitting cross-legged on the floor with a handful of the children of Meduseld, looking none the worse for being in a small skirmish the day before, or for sleeping in the stables last night. A small lap harp was in her lap, and her shoulder and arm were bound to her side, the white bandages sticking out brightly against the blue of her dress.
She laughed with the children, "Only if you promise not to make fun of my mishaps." She said solemnly, but her eyes sparkled with laughter. "Or at least, you must promise not to make more fun than I do." Eomer realized that she was speaking in a more formal form of Western, but clearly enough for the children to understand her every word.
Lothiriel slid the harp so it was balanced on her knee closer to her left side, and began to play a lively song about the sea. After a few seconds, two of the older children got up and began to do a simple dance from Rohan to her words. The others scrambled to join in. When the words to her song ended, Lothiriel continued to play the chords as the children danced. "Can you teach me this?" She asked, bringing the song to an end.
The children scrambled to translate her words, and then one of the oldest said, "Yes, but you must be… dance boy part."
Lothiriel nodded, and then asked, "Why?"
"You have…" there was a hurried conversation "height." And the children laughed when Lothiriel started giggling. "But most important…" they struggled to find the words "your left arm… hurt."
"I have to be a boy because I cannot move my left arm?"
"Yes." One of the girls said emphatically. "Girl dance with left arm – dance with…" and she trailed and put a hand over her heart which she moved to symbolize her heartbeat. "Boy dance with right arm for…" and she pantomimed fighting with a sword.
"Girls dance with their heart arm and boys dance with their sword arm." Lothiriel repeated. "That is an interesting way to look at it. If I try to be a boy will you teach me how to dance?"
"My lord?" One of the men in charge of caring for Eothain startled Eomer, and he almost slipped the door open the whole way in his surprise. Quickly Eomer closed the door, and turned to face the man.
"Yes, Holdwine, what is it?" Eomer asked, and Holdwine bowed.
"My lord king, the master healer is asking for you. Eothain is fairing well, but he wishes to speak about his ability to travel with you to Gondor." Holdwine replied evenly.
Eomer nodded, and turned to walk with the healer, but a small part of him regretted not being able to observe Lothiriel dance "as a boy." He pushed down the laughter that threatened to spill out as he imagined the farce of Lothiriel learning the wrong part to one of their children dances.
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"How did your dance lessons with the Lady Lothiriel go?" Eomer asked the children the next time he saw them at the midday meal.
The children hid their laughter behind their hands. "She is very bad." One of the girls admitted.
"No!" the oldest exclaimed, staunchly defending Lothiriel. "We were unable to play music while she danced. She could not find her place in the line."
"Next time ask one of the bards to help you." Eomer suggested.
"We will do that." Another replied gravely, and Eomer made his way up to the head table.
Lothiriel was talking animatedly with Eowyn. She looked as lively as she had with the children earlier, but a further deeper glance showed that not all was well. She kept her body as still as was physically possible, and was barely picking at the food in front of her. There were lines of stress barely visible at the corners of her eyes.
"Does something displease you, my lord?" Lothiriel asked, breaking Eomer's concentration.
"Was caring for the children too much this morning?" Eomer asked, surprising her.
"I am not sure I should be surprised that you know that." Lothiriel laughed. "Why would it be too much for me?"
Eomer gestured to her mostly full plate. "Oh, well," Lothiriel blushed. "I've never been much of an eater, especially not when I'm… injured."
"Perhaps taking an afternoon to rest would be best?" Eowyn asked. "I didn't even notice that you were in pain."
"Oh, no. It is a pleasure to help where I can. I am only sorry that I cannot help more. The children are lovely." Lothiriel was over reassuring, trying to ease her friend's concern.
"If you are sure…" Eowyn tone reflected her uncertainty.
"You told me, unequivocally that I could not help you with the packing or the heaving lifting. I have but one task left as I cannot sew one handed."
"But you can play the harp one handed." Eomer pointed out as he took a seat on her right.
"Once again, my lord, I do not know why I should be surprised that you know that." Lothiriel laughed as she blushed. "I have been injured before, and playing the harp was one of the few activities still available to me as I recovered."
"How were you –" Eowyn started to ask, when Lothiriel cut her off.
"It is of no matter." Lothiriel laughed. "The useful point is that I can play the harp to amuse your children and keep them out from under your feet as you pack." She hesitated, "It will be after lunch, and most of them will need rest, so the older ones and I will find something calm to do."
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"Where are you running to?" Eomer was pulled out of his study by the sound of running feet and shouts down the hallway.
The children stopped as suddenly as if they were frozen by magic. "Lothiriel sent us on a treasure hunt." One of the older children replied.
"If we find the treasure first she'll put us in her magic book!" Exclaimed a second.
"She'll put us in anyways, silly," said a third. "She'll put us in first you meant."
"What magic book?" Eomer asked.
"Come and see!" They chorused at him.
As he was about to step out and join them, a counselor stepped into his study. Eomer suppressed a sigh. Another missed chance he thought sadly as he waved the children on and stepped back inside, closing the door behind him.
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A week after her injury, Lothiriel woke up having slept through the night for the first time with out pain. She lay in bed, thinking about all she still had to accomplish for the day, when she noticed that there were shadows crossing and crisscrossing by her desk. Shadows that came from her window. The window. The one that Eowyn had told her to watch, and with that thought Lothiriel slowly and carefully got up.
Throwing a shawl over her shoulders, Lothiriel walked to the window and saw horses.
She had to smile at her friend; of course the surprise would be horses. What else would be so exciting in Rohan, and she turned to go prepare for the day. She took a second look, and found that she could not look away. These were as horses as mountains were to hills, or a warship to a rowboat. These were Horses.
She watched them interact from the window, so engrossed that she hardly noticed the tap on the door, nor that Eowyn entered the room to sit by her.
"They are called the Mearas." Eowyn explained, smiling at her transfixed friend. "They travel across Rohan through out the year, but they spend a month in the summer here in Edoras."
"They are stunning." Lothiriel whispered. "Are they Eomer King's?"
"They belong to Rohan." Eowyn laughed. "They listen to who ever the King of Rohan is, but they are no more ours than the trees, or the air. We'll mix our horses in with them later, so you will have a whirl of horses to observe for the next day."
Lothiriel had her chance to watch again later that afternoon. She was sent back to her room to finish up her personal packing, when her window distracted her once again. There were more horses as Eowyn had promised. She saw Windfola, and Firefoot, as well as many of the horses that belonged to the marshals and riders, and… Lothiriel wrenched her neck she turned to look so fast. There was Mirime, laying down in the shade of one of the trees. Her Mirime, who was out of the stables, certainly resting but also certainly on the mend. Lothiriel looked around the field as far as she could with the limited view from the window, but she could see no entrance to where the horses grazed.
Thinking it through, Lothiriel opened her window, and looked down. It was but three feet to the ground, or so. Hardly a sharp drop. She gathered up her book and supplies, deciding to go sit and work on her "magic book" as the children here called it. She would be glad of Mirime's company, especially as it was more hopeful to see her horse outside and away from the smell of blood.
She came back to the window and placed her small bundle on the sill, as she prepared to swing her legs over. There was a rush of movement and Lothiriel almost lost her balance as she realized that all the horses had stopped to look at her in various states of concern, and two horses now stood directly before her window with their ears back ready to bite.
Lothiriel took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she said slowly. "I just wanted to see my horse." The horses looked even more wary, and their heads lowered in further warning.
I thought Mearas understood human languages. Lothiriel puzzled. That's what Eowyn told me…
"Oh!" She exclaimed out loud. "Rohan. Rohirric!" She took a deep breath and tried again, more haltingly this time. "I…sorry…I have little skill in… with Rohirric. I have a wish… I have a desire to see… horse. My horse, Mirime. She is there."
The two horses relaxed slightly, and one trotted away to where a main group of Mearas stood together. He touched noses with one tall stallion, and Lothiriel began to understand what was happening.
"Your King?" She asked the horse that still stood guard. "It makes sense," she sighed when he nodded. "I never seem to be able to escape court functions."
A loud call came from the tall stallion, and the second horse backed away. Lothiriel carefully dropped to the ground outside her window, and when horses did not maul her, she turned and curtseyed deeply to the stallion. "My thanks, Lord King." She said while in her deep curtsey, and then turned to go to her horse.
Mirime looked up as Lothiriel drew close. When Lothiriel knelt at her side, Mirime put her nose into Lothiriel's hair and breathed deeply, and began to nose Lothiriel all over. "I am alright, my love." Lothiriel laughed. "You are the one who is still gravely injured. Don't think I have finished scolding you."
Mirime twitched her ear back and forward in a totally unconcerned matter, causing Lothiriel to laugh again. "I was going to work on my book. May I share your shade?" She asked sliding forward to sit with her back to the tree. Mirime nudged Lothiriel over a little further and then placed her head in Lothiriel's lap and took a deep breath.
"Tomorrow we have to leave this place." Lothiriel spoke as she worked. "I wanted to get as much of it recorded as I could while I am here, but unfortunately I do not rest well, and so there has not been enough time to sit and work."
Mirime snorted into her skirt, and Lothiriel looked at her. "That had better not be a comment on my work habits. Remember I am the one who smuggles you extra rations." Mirime looked thoroughly unimpressed, and Lothiriel ran her hand through Mirime's mane for a few minutes before getting to work.
When she looked up again the sun had passed a solid distance, and the shadows were getting longer. The horses had broken her concentration; they were all excitedly prancing around a figure that appeared on the far side of the field. Lothiriel shaded her eyes with her hand to figure out who else was here, when she noticed that Firefoot was trailing the person closely.
"Maybe he won't notice me?" Lothiriel asked Mirime softly.
Mirime gave a soft huff as Lothiriel took up her work again. This time she was almost instantly interrupted.
"Lothiriel! What are you doing here?" Eomer called, walking determinedly towards her.
"I wanted to visit Mirime, and so came to see her." Lothiriel replied, deciding that she did not have to stand up as it would upset Mirime's rest.
"They let you in?" Eomer asked, shocked.
"I am not sure who you're referring too. There were no human guards on my window to ask permission from, and the horses let me in when I explained. I fully recognize that I am only allowed to be here because of Miri." She added, giving her horse a soft pat. "But it seemed like a good place to work, especially since I could be with her as I sat."
Eomer started to laugh. "You climbed out a window to see your horse, facing down the Mearas to do so?"
"Yes?" Lothiriel tried to figure out what was so humorous, but gave up as Eomer almost doubled over laughing.
"You are either insane, or incredibly lucky." Eomer said eventually, straightening up.
"I am fairly certain it's the former, my lord – Eomer. Though the latter is true too."
"What are you working on that brings you into the heart of Rohan?" He asked, sitting down beside her.
"Mirime brought me into the heart of Rohan. Working on my book was an added pleasure."
"Your magic book?" Eomer asked picking it up.
Lothiriel covered her face and groaned. "I have told the children that there is no magic too it. They do not believe me yet."
"May I?" Eomer asked, as he turned the book so that the front cover faced him.
Lothiriel nodded. "My first ones are not so good, I started this when I started my life at court when I had about twelve years of age." Eomer looked at the first page, which contained a drawn picture of a set of rooms. The second had a very dismal picture of a court being held around a grim looking man. "I am coming close to the end of this book, which I think will be good. It will be nice to put this one behind me. There were some good things in it." Eomer had turned to a page that showed Boromir and Faramir at archery practice. "But there were not many."
"These are very good." Eomer said eventually, turning through pictures of men-at-arms, her brothers, the sea, dances… each was like a small imprint of life on the page. As the pages turned the images became better and better.
"Thank you," Lothiriel blushed. "It is very fashionable to keep a journal of a written account of your life, but I find that when I try to write my words become very stiff. It is as if they are all trying to escape from my head at once, and so what comes out is all wrong. I found that I could draw a little, and so started sketching in my journal at a young age. This is the first journal I kept of just pictures."
Eomer flipped ahead a number of pages.
"The start of the war for us," Lothiriel murmured, narrating the well worn page he landed on. "Boromir was sent to defend the boarders, and Faramir was soon sent too." Eomer turned the page. "People from boarder cities began to send their women and children to us." Eomer looked at the despair on the faces of the displaced people, and felt he had seen it on his own as well. He turned the page. "I started to work in the Houses of Healing, as people talked of sending the women and children even further away – to safety." She gently traced the edge of the picture of a place Eomer knew so well. How had she captured such fear in such a calm image?
Lothiriel turned the page. "Then the women and children were sent away, and I had real work to do." The picture showed a little closet that contained cleaning supplies, and another next to it with unprepared jars of herbs.
Eomer turned to the next picture. "Boromir left for Imladris and… did not return." The picture was different than the ones that were before. It showed an imagining of a small girl sleeping, while being protected from monsters in her dreams by a brave warrior with a bright sword and round shield. A horn hung by his side. This picture had a few blots from loose tears. "I drew most of these after the battle at Minas Tirith was over. I wanted to put them down sooner, but there were more important things. I tried to think of a way to represent all that Boromir meant to me, but all that kept coming to mind was this belief I had as a child that he guarded my dreams. Foolish I know…"
"It is well done." Eomer said, tracing the line of Boromir's sword with his finger. "I can speak from experience of being an older brother and a warrior that Eowyn could give me no finer epitaph."
"Thank you." Lothiriel replied after a moment. She turned the page. "The sky became dark." The picture showed the city in shadow, doom and despair were thick. "Faramir returned and was sent away again. And then he returned as still as death." Lothiriel took a shaky breath. "I could not bring myself to draw it all. The sorrow, the grief, the hopelessness… it hung over us day and night. Then the siege began." The picture showed small shapes moving in darkness. The light of the enemy's fires beyond the walls. The smallness of one city standing before the weight of Mordor. "I did not expect to see my family again, I did not expect to live the night." She turned the page. "And then morning came, and with it came the horns of Rohan." She gave him a small smile, which he returned.
"This is very different than our fierce gallop to your aid." He said at last, staring at the picture.
"I imagine it would be." Lothiriel replied with a small laugh.
"For us the hope was to arrive before it was too late, but we were so tired." Eomer looked straight ahead, as if seeing back to that moment. "Managing to skirt around the one army that stood between us was the first time that I believed we might survive this fight, that we might live to tell the tale."
He turned the page. It was an incomplete sketch, as if Lothiriel had been driven to start, but could not bring herself to finish. "I had to do something to get the images of the dead out from my head. They lined the street at one point. The armies were marching towards the Black Gate, and the number of able-bodied men was too few to be everywhere at once. The dead were barely there for an hour or more, but it was… haunting."
"I wish you could have been spared that." Eomer commented softly, and turned the page again.
"Thank you for the kind thought." Lothiriel replied just as soft. "I try to console myself that at least I was allowed to stay and help, but some days I wish that I had gone away. Certainly Father would have been happier if I had, he was most displeased to find me in the City still."
A few pages later Eomer was transfixed by the sketch of Eowyn, lying still as death and almost transparently thin. "I was nominated to be her care taker by the other healers at the Houses. We knew almost nothing about your culture, but we knew that there were two Princes and one Princess, so we worried that your people would be offended if a person of low rank was caring for your royalty. I do not believe she truly noticed me until much, much later when I remarked on the kinship between Faramir and myself."
"I did not know." Eomer replied, looking at the picture as if it condemned his treatment. "I did not see." He looked at Lothiriel. "You and your brothers passed as strangers, and by the time we moved to Edoras we were at a point where our lives became separate too. She dreamed of being a shieldmaiden, I joined my first eored. She became the Lady of Edoras, I was a Captain. Wormtongue came and spouted poison, and Theodred and I did what we could to defend Rohan from his treachery."
Lothiriel took a deep breath as Eomer stopped talking. She felt caught in his gaze, and unable to breathe as he spoke earnestly. "You need not explain yourself to me, Eomer." She said, her eyes darting towards the ground and back up again. "I am not your judge."
Eomer gave her a weak smile. "Perhaps not." He sighed and looked back at the page. "I find that I am my hardest judge, especially after the War of the Ring. Too many of my choices turned to be poor, or inadvisably made. The people of Rohan might have done better elsewhere for a king."
Lothiriel was quiet for a moment as she considered his words. "I do not think that is true." She said at last. "May I show you?" She asked and gestured to her book.
Eomer reluctantly handed it over, and Lothiriel carefully flicked through the pages that were left. "Here is our trip to Edoras, for Theoden King's burial." She showed a picture of her first impression of the Golden Hall, but barely could Eomer take it in before the page was turned. The next page was Theoden King's last rights. Lothiriel had drawn her picture of the crowd of mourners surrounding the barrow. All wore faces carved with grief, but there was an air of determination and hope focused on the two tall figures that stood side by side at the head of the barrow. "They looked to you, to Eowyn as well, but their eyes were all for you." The next picture was of his coronation. "I have never enjoyed a celebration as much." Lothiriel confessed. "The dancing, the company, but it was so gracious that you allowed us to be a part of your people's joy in you. I felt like I was an intruder, stealing their happiness. They wanted you so much."
She flipped ahead some pages again. "Even now, almost a year later, they still hold you so highly." Here was a picture of Eomer and the King's eored training. The men were proud, and full of grace as they spared with each other. The young women along the side of the training fields looked on, hoping to catch one man or another's eye. The picture showed determination and spirit.
"You give your people hope. Worrying about making mistakes or not being enough is pointless. You will make mistakes, you are human. But you are more than enough because you are what they have and what they need. You make me proud to be your friend."
Lothiriel met his gaze evenly, and she felt the world stop for a brief second. Something was happening here, like the tides, pulling her closer to Eomer, when suddenly a bell tolled out the warning for the evening meal.
"You should go." Eomer murmured in a low voice, strangely not meeting her eyes. "Can you make it back into your room with out help?"
"I believe so." Lothiriel replied, neatly packing up her supplies and tying them into a small bundle. To her surprise Eomer rose and helped her to her feet, and then walked her to the window.
She swung her pack over onto the window seat, and turned to him. "I will see you in a moment or two," she reminded him, as he still did not move away.
"I am waiting to make sure that you can climb in on your own." He replied with a hint of mischief. Lothiriel openly rolled her eyes at him, and then deftly leapt up to the ledge, using her good arm as support.
"I was lucky it was not my right arm that was caught," she laughed, smiling down at him from her perch.
Eomer nodded, and watched her slide back into the room. Lothiriel leaned out the window, bringing their faces to an almost even level. "You could have showed me the way you came in. I bet it has nothing to do with climbing."
Eomer laughed with her. "Another time, perhaps." He promised, and his hand with an unconscious gesture gently pushed a small strand of hair off her face. He was about to say more, when a sharp knock at the door made them both jump.
"Lothiriel!" Eowyn called. "Are you ready?"
"Give me a moment!" Lothiriel replied, turning to face the door as Eomer let his hand drop. She turned back to face him.
"I will be with you both in a few minutes." Eomer told her, with a smile.
"Til then, my lord." She gave him a small curtsy and closed the curtains to her room.
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A/N: Once again I truly apologize for such a long delay between chapters. No one told me grad school was going to be this hard.
Please let me know if you have any questions or comments on the story, I love getting both!
Thank you for reading! I will be back November 1st!
