Such is the irresistible nature of truth, that all it asks, and all it wants, is the liberty of appearing. - Queen Melannen of Gondor, consort of King Turambar

Chapter 5

At breakfast Lothíriel was very quiet and unresponsive. She kept picking the food before her and staring at it as if it held an answer to some great mystery. Amrothos had not seen her since yesterday, and even then only very briefly. But he knew her well enough something was on her mind. His sister's spirits were rarely daunted by anything, so when she did fall silent like this it usually was about something significant.

It wasn't on the front of their family he could question her about it, though (even if Aredhel's pointed looks made him realise Lothíriel's little secret was not so tightly kept after all). That was the last place where she'd tell him what was on her mind, and so after they had finished their breakfasts he caught up with her at the door.

"Sister! Would you like to come and walk with me in the garden? I'd like to speak with you", he said, and she mumbled something that sounded like an affirmative response.

The gardens of the palace of Princes of Dol Amroth were a grand and beautiful thing, and even a wild thing like Lothíriel could lose her sense of time there. As for Amrothos, he had found it was an ideal place for amorous encounters and other such things Father would call "shenanigans". Still, when the House of Princes in Minas Tirith had first been built the one commissioning it had felt that a garden was necessary here as well, if only as reminiscent of the gardens in the city by the sea. So, on the scale of gardens in the White City this was one of the fairest, though nothing of course could compete with the real thing back in Dol Amroth. There were even some trees there, creating some much needed green shade and tranquillity that was otherwise absent in the city.

Now the two siblings strolled there, and when Amrothos glanced at his sister she still wore that same look as before. It even felt to him like she might not be aware of his presence, though they walked with arms linked.

"It's about the King Éomer, isn't it? You're so busy obsessing about him that you barely have time for anything else?" he asked then, deciding the straight-forward way was the best one about it. If anything it at least sparked her attention, and her head shot up. Her eyes blazed as she glared at him.

"Amrothos, this is none of your business!" she snapped sharply.

"Well, I think it is, considering how much I've done to help you to avoid him", he pointed out, which quickly killed the furious look on her face. Obviously she recognised the truth in that statement.

"Has something happened with him?" he asked then, gentler this time. At first he wasn't sure if she would answer, but eventually she let out a sigh and lowered her eyes on the ground. Her troubled expression did not escape his notice.

"It's nothing much, really. He happened on me at the markets, and... he just... I don't know what I'm doing here. He drives me insane", she complained.

It was so simple and obvious and Amrothos wanted to laugh. How couldn't she see? But then, it wasn't like this was what often happened to Lothíriel. As far as males went, she was indifferent to them – mostly because they feared her like some wild beast and she was suspicious towards them in turn. At least that was how he interpreted it; she just was an animal men (and many women) didn't understand, but evidently the King of Rohan was making more effort than anyone before him. She just couldn't see it... because sometimes, the most obvious things could stare one in the face and one would simply not comprehend it. Éomer was not behaving the way men usually did when it came to her, so in the end her seemingly illogical and silly insistence not to meet him officially was just an attempt to make sense of something she didn't understand. What she had not realised was that if she kept doing it, she'd only push him away for good.

In other words, the question was: how do you make two pig-headed people understand they're practically made for each other? The annoying thing about the level of stubbornness Lothíriel possessed was she usually had to figure out these things on her own... but that didn't mean he couldn't help her.

"Have you considered just telling him the truth?" Amrothos tried. Of course there was always the option of gagging and binding her, and then dragging her into the front of King of Rohan. But she'd never forgive him that, and most likely it would just result in a lot of screaming and tears.

"Of course not! Have you completely forgotten what we talked about? He'd be furious if he knew!" she wailed and looked now thoroughly miserable. "And anyway I don't need you too telling me this – Aredhel already gave a lecture enough to me yesterday when I made the mistake of telling her of it."

"She was probably right too, sister – you should listen to her. Perhaps just telling him would also set you free", Amrothos offered. "You wouldn't have to make up those ridiculous scenes or run at the sight of him."

"I..." Lothíriel started, but evidently she couldn't find it in herself to finish. But then a starker expression came to her face and she shook her head. "No. He mustn't know."

He sighed tiredly. Just what crime had he committed to have such a stubborn, mad sister for a sibling?

"Hmph. You're hopeless."

Later that day Amrothos happened to be at the stables when King Éomer arrived from what apparently was a ride to the wide fields outside the city. For someone used to the great grass plains of Rohan this place was probably something of a prison... but the prince did not think much of that. He was, after all, presented with a chance to find out more about the thing between his sister and the horselord... and if it was worth the effort of pushing Lothíriel into doing what she was so convinced would turn out badly.

The Rohirric king lead in his great stallion, which he brought to an empty stall. Nodding to Amrothos as a greeting he began to care for the animal, looking completely at ease. Well, that much could be expected of a horselord, and he didn't even wonder why the man hadn't called for a stable-hand to look to the stallion. Glancing at the animal, Amrothos considered maybe this warhorse didn't even let anyone else near him.

"So, how are you finding our city, my lord?" he asked at last, giving a smile to King Éomer he hoped was a genuine and honest one. After all, Lothíriel would probably kill him if he somehow revealed her identity here.

"It is... it's all I thought it would be, Prince Amrothos", answered the Rohir. That was a fantastic answer, he thought: diplomatic, but one couldn't say what it really meant. This horselord would make one amazing king, he deemed.

"But you're going to return to Rohan soon?" Amrothos asked then.

"Aye. The war is over and my own kingdom awaits me", said Éomer; his sigh was barely audible.

For a moment the prince hesitated. He had to choose his words carefully now, because this Lord of Rohirrim had a reputation of a man with keen perception, and Amrothos didn't want him thinking he had some ulterior motives.

"Do you have family waiting for you there, Sire?" he asked then.

The Rohirric King had stopped with the task of unbuckling the saddle. Instead, he stared ahead with what looked like a frown to Amrothos.

"Would that there were", he said at last, and then continued again caring for his horse. "But past few years I have had very little time to even entertain the idea of family and children."

"Of course", said the prince hurriedly but sympathetically. "It must be frustrating, though. Unmarried kings seem to drive certain people crazy."

"That is regrettably true", agreed the horselord. "Sometimes I just wish I could..."

He didn't finish the sentence, though. Instead, he turned to take off the reins of his horse.

"You wish, what? If I may ask, my lord?" Amrothos asked, keeping his tone soft.

"Leave behind this all. And I wish that Théodred my cousin was still alive. Life as a Marshal was so much simpler... and kings must always be thinking of greater good instead of the whims of their own hearts", said the King of Rohan and shook his head.

Well. If that wasn't confirmation enough, then Amrothos didn't know what was.

Now he just had to figure out how to get this through the thick skull of his sister... but thinking of it, he knew the tall Rohir was his own best advocate, and the prince made a decision.

He would start with horses.

It was obvious Amrothos was up to something. He never vexed his sister the way he had that morning unless he had something in mind, and as far as Lothíriel could tell this time it was about some idiotic attempt in matchmaking. Where he had got such an inane idea she wasn't so sure, but then again it was Amrothos. She just hoped he'd not get it in his head to join forces with Aredhel, because together those two could be a formidable force.

That's why she had her suspicions when he asked her to meet him in the stables that afternoon and made vague mentions of going to riding. Of course she could have just refused to go, but it was her brother after all, even if he were an annoying miscreant sometimes. And so she made way there, wondering what it was her brother wanted.

She had always liked stables, be it in her own home or here in the White City. Even back in Dol Amroth she had sometimes gone to watch the stable-hands work there, and so she knew most if not all that went into caring for horses. Couple of times, Aunt Ivriniel had even found her in the middle of shovelling horse manure. Most of the time she overlooked Lothíriel's unladylike manners but then she had thrown a proper fit: a princess had no place doing that kind of a job, and she hadn't even listened to her niece when Lothíriel had tried to explain she could never be a proper horsewoman if she didn't know these things. Incidentally, Father had agreed with Aunt. Usually he was very permissive when it came to her antics (at least as long as she didn't run completely rampant)... sometimes she wondered why that was, but when she had tried to ask this odd look had come to his face, and she had known there was something more to the matter, although he wouldn't talk about it.

Now she pushed those memories out of her mind, for she had come to the royal stables where Amrothos had asked to meet her. Rows of beautiful steeds were there in stalls, some of which she recognised as Rohirric. The sight of those fine animals made her sigh wistfully, and quietly she wondered if she could talk Father into buying some horses from the Rohirrim. Then again, they had lost many horses in the war and would need all that remained for multiplying their herds.

Then she came to look at a horse that was truly extraordinary, even when compared to Rohirric steeds. Great and proud he stood, and his coat was strange luminous shade of grey that seemed almost silver. He turned to look at the princess and watched her with eyes wiser than any animal she had ever seen. Lothíriel had never beheld a stallion like this before, and the sight of him made her feel intimidated respect; she felt like she should introduce herself and bow to the animal.

But then came a voice that was now very familiar to her, once again finding her when she least expected it.

"He is one of mearas, in case you are wondering", he said behind her, and Lothíriel jumped around. Then again, she shouldn't probably have been surprised to see the King of Rohan there, leaning against the wooden pillar of a stall. Like she had told him yesterday, he did seem to possess the skill of happening on her when she least expected it.

Then she realised this meeting did not account to his ability of finding her just like that. No, this one was on her brother and she should have expected something of the sort after that stupid conversation they had shared on the morrow. Amrothos! She was going to hurt him for this... as soon as she had dealt with the King of Rohan.

"It is not proper to sneak up behind someone like that and startle them", she blurted out, which brought a half-smile to his face.

"If I may ask, has any of our meetings so far been what you'd call proper?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows.

"No", she allowed, cringing as she thought of all the embarrassing encounters with this man. "But that is mostly because Sire is stubborn as a rock."

Lothíriel wasn't sure how he'd react to those words, but he laughed; mirth sparkled in his dark eyes and made him look younger. Yet somehow she got the idea he did not laugh very often, even if he did do so in her company.

"I find that amusing, considering you are the one who refuses to tell me her name", he pointed out.

"I have my reasons and they're very good", Lothíriel informed him, though at this point she wasn't so sure if that were true. "What even is mearas?"

"They are the great horses of the West. The legends have it Béma brought them with him long ago, long before even Éothéod. Our songs say he gave their leader to one of Eorl's ancestors, and though the world has changed since then mearas will only bear those descended from Eorl. A wild herd of them still lives on the plains of Rohan, and they are protected by the king – no man or woman may touch these horses or harm them. It I said that sometimes in times of need mearas reward this protection by helping Eorl's heirs in turn, if they are deserving", answered the King and regarded the beautiful horse with unveiled reverence. "This is Shadowfax, the chief of mearas. He is the greatest of horses that live now, and I doubt his like will ever be seen again."

Lothíriel had heard of this horse, but hadn't made the connection right away. Stories of the White Rider, the wizard Gandalf and his great horse, were not among the least of what she had heard of the war. But what sparked her attention even more was the way the horselord spoke: there was depth and colour to his voice she hadn't heard before. This observation she put in her heart for later scrutiny.

Then the obvious question rose to her mind and she frowned, "What are you doing here, your lordship?"

This too appeared to be funny to him, for he chuckled.

"My lady, it doesn't make sense to you that the King of the horselords would sometimes visit a stable?" he asked back.

"Hmph. No need to be insolent about it", she grumbled. He didn't comment on that, but rather sought her eyes as if looking for some answer in them.

"You left in a hurry the other day. I hope it wasn't because I offended you somehow", he said then, his voice softer this time.

"Oh, it had everything to do with you, Sire. But not because I was offended", she answered. But as soon as those words were out of her mouth, Lothíriel regretted them. For all she said only ever seemed to fuel his interest; even now, the look on his face was intensely focused, and his eyes searched hers as though in an attempt to unlock her thoughts.

"Perhaps you could tell me your name now? Your real name, that is", he said softly, taking a step towards her. "For I must confess not knowing who you are is starting to drive me mad."

"I..." Lothíriel hesitated. What to tell him?

As she tried to find words, she made the mistake of meeting his eyes. His gaze was fixed on her, unblinking and so... so honest. Looking at him, she realised how easy it would have been to lose herself in those dark, vivid eyes. And then she didn't know what she would do, except lose control.

Again she felt breathless like on the night of the masked ball. Her hands were sweating and she could feel the blush on her cheeks, and she wanted to kick herself for having this reaction. Even her childhood sweethearts or some gallant Swan Knights she had been infatuated with during her younger years had never made her feel like this. And after all, her conversation with Aredhel had convinced her this man wanted only one thing of her. Yet still as she saw how he looked at her it was difficult to keep that in mind. They said Rohirrim and their king were honest people, so could he really be deceitful in this one thing?

At last she made herself speak: "Sire, I'd ask you to forget about me."

Something pained quickly flashed on his face. He took another step towards her.

"Why do you keep running away from me? Is it because of something I have done? Or do you just find my presence so horrendous? Please, tell me, so that I may mend my ways", said the King. His voice was quiet and soft and he seemed so gentle. How could there be such warmth and tenderness in someone who could be so terrible in his fury?

"No. No, it's not that", she mumbled reluctantly.

"Then what is it?" he asked.

"It is because I fear what will happen if I tell you who I am", Lothíriel answered. There was the truth at last, for she was scared. But now she was starting to think she wasn't just scared for the reason she had originally imagined. There was something else, and that something else was in the way he looked at her.

"Why? Why do you fear what might be?" asked the Lord of the Mark. Ever his eyes remained on her, like he feared she might disappear otherwise... or like he simply couldn't tear his gaze away.

"Because..." she began, and her breath threatened to turn into gasps. He was so close now... "Because you would have me, and I don't want to give up my freedom."

I am of the blood of Mithrellas, after all...

But to him her words appeared to be confusing. He frowned, "Why would I want to steal your freedom?"

Oh, Elbereth! Why did h have to be so... so... she didn't even have word for it. He was so unlike Gondorian lords she was used to, so alien and so wild.

He is like me.

But that thought terrified her, though she didn't know why, and she stepped back. A cringe came to his face then and he stepped back as well.

"I've done it again, haven't I? I apologise, Garafiell. Sometimes I forget my manners", said the King of Rohan, but she couldn't answer; her head was too confused and her thoughts ran amok, with no resemblance of reason. He seemed to recognise that and he sighed.

"It's fine", she said weakly then, "It's not your manners – I'm just not accustomed to someone who is as... as unhinged as myself."

That brought a slight smile back to his face and his posture lost some of its tenseness.

"Though I'm not sure if you consider that a compliment, I think I'll take it so anyway", he told her. Considering her, he spoke again in a softer tone, "My lady, I was planning on passing tonight's gathering here in the Citadel, and instead spending the night among my riders. Perhaps I could ask you to come as well, and see some Rohirric socialising for change? I did say you should be introduced to Rohirric dancing at least."

The rational thing to say would have been no of course, but the Rohir was looking at her so hopefully, and Lothíriel felt she didn't want to disappoint him. All their encounters had achieved was to make her more and more deeply tangled in this web she had so foolishly spun in her own hand, and still... she wanted to go. She wanted to see what kind of people his men were, how he behaved among them, and how they received him.

"I won't say yes or no. I may come, perhaps", she answered after a moment of hesitation, and though she could tell he was disappointed for such a vague response, but he didn't try to persuade her beyond that.

Like yesterday at the markets, he picked up her hand and gave it a kiss, and just like before that odd breathless feeling came to her... and the shiver ran through her. How unfair! How did he have this effect on her, when she couldn't strike him out cold just as effectively?

"I will wait for you anyway", said King Éomer in rich, deep tones, and she was...

Damn.

Once outside, Lothíriel allowed herself some heavy curses.

Amrothos, I'm going to kill you!

Prince Amrothos of Dol Amroth was fairly pleased with himself. Never had he set up a meeting quite as effectively or successfully before – or with two parties as blissfully unaware of what was happening. Getting Lothíriel to the stables was pretty easy, and the King of Rohan only had to be sent a note about how his horse seemed to be acting odd. So, hiding behind some columns Amrothos had watched first his sister enter the stables... and the horselord had followed her about five minutes later.

He wasn't sure how the meeting itself turned out but Lothíriel was looking flushed and wild-eyed when she came out. Granted, she was cursing to herself but that wasn't necessarily a bad sign when it came to her, and the King, following her out only moments later, seemed hopeful. That confirmed it had been successful. King Éomer indeed was his own best advocate, and apparently Lothíriel's absurd ways and attitude were merely wonderful from his point of view.

Altogether things were proceeding very well... only, now he needed to get her to admit the truth to the Rohirric king. One thing was clear and it was that the two would never have a future unless Lothíriel revealed who she was. Perhaps King Éomer would be angry, but Amrothos trusted by now she had the man under her spell tightly enough for his eventual anger to run cold quickly enough.

However, some help and a push were obviously needed... but he wasn't the only one to deliver it. Both parties were too stubborn to listen to him – at this point at least – but luckily he knew just the person who might have greater persuasive skills.

He found Prince Legolas in the palace garden, conversing with his hobbit friends – wonderful little fellows, truly – and the Dwarf Gimli. The Elf's sharp ears picked up the sound of his steps right away, and even the look on his face made the prince feel like he already knew what this was about. Legolas got up and approached the young man.

"Prince Amrothos", greeted the Elf and nodded at him. It was probably some Elven thing but he made even that small gesture seem like the most graceful greeting anyone had ever received.

"Prince Legolas", Amrothos replied and smiled, "I would like to speak with you, if you have time."

"Of course. Time is something my people have in abundance", said the Elf, and after leaving his friends with a promise they'd continue later, he joined the prince. So they strolled through the garden and Amrothos wondered how he should begin.

"First of all, I should probably apologise for my rude interruption the other day, when you and my sister were busy with your archery", he said after deciding it would probably be wise to make sure the Elf bore no ill will.

"It was fine. I understand Lothíriel has some problems with the King Éomer?" Legolas said, casting a pensive look at the young prince.

"Well, I suppose that's not so far from the truth", Amrothos allowed. Then, seeing the Elf would probably see into the core of it anyway, he judged it would be for the best to just reveal what this was about. So he proceeded into an explanation of what had happened between his sister and the horselord. Legolas listened silently but attentively, and his face did not reveal what he thought.

"So, the problem is that your sister keeps digging herself a deeper hole, all the while failing to see that our friend Éomer is quite taken with her?" Legolas asked thoughtfully.

"I think she has noticed it. She has had to, because our good king is rather obvious about that sort of thing. But my sister is absolutely harebrained when it comes to dealing with the matters of hearts and she simply doesn't know what to do with him. In other words, she needs a push", Amrothos explained.

"Yes. That sounds about right", Legolas said softly and looked ahead as if he saw more than was there. Maybe he did.

Then he turned his gaze towards the prince, "You want me to speak with her of this, don't you?"

"I would be very grateful if you did. She will be too, after a while. Lothíriel is... she wouldn't listen to me, if I told her what to do. But I think she trusts you and your counsel", Amrothos explained. Seeking the Elf's eyes, he went on, "She might not understand it now, but I want what's best for her. And it's obvious that he's probably the only man who could ever love her the way she is."

He smiled then, "And I think she'd be good for him too. Someone ought to wipe away that sombre look on his face."

Legolas nodded.

"I do believe you are correct, Prince Amrothos", he said and a smile touched his face. "Do not worry. I will speak with your sister."

Since their return from the Fields of Cormallen each day the two kings of Gondor and Rohan had taken some time for a walk in the palace's garden, to speak of things idle or important. Éomer had made many friends during past couple of months, but none he considered the way he saw Aragorn. Theirs was more than just friendship: in the older man he felt like he had found a brother. No one could replace Théodred, but in Aragorn he did have someone he could trust the way he had trusted his cousin.

It was a comforting thought at least. Even if they now had peace it didn't mean actually ruling their lands would always be easy. Rebuilding their kingdoms would be a grave task and perhaps hard, but with each other's help all wounds of war would be healed.

And somehow Aragorn too felt like the right person to have the one conversation he now had in mind. Though he had great trust and faith in his own men and especially Elfhelm and Éothain, it seemed to Éomer that Aragorn had the kind of outsider point of view he needed now.

So, that afternoon he uttered a question that would probably have made him feel very uncomfortable had the one receiving it been anyone else.

"Brother, may I ask you something?" he inquired as they slowly made their way through the garden. His friend smiled.

"Of course. Is there something troubling you?" asked Aragorn.

"I was wondering... how did you first meet the Lady Arwen?"

After the Battle before the Black Gates there had been much time for all kinds of conversations, and Isildur's Heir had once spoken of his life before the last years before the war. So the matter of Arwen Undómiel had also been discussed, which had brought the Rohir a slightly intimidated feeling. The love between Elves and Men did not sound like something out of this Age, after all.

Be it as may, the mention of the lady brought a fond look to Aragorn's face and his eyes seemed to be somewhere far.

"It was a long time ago. I was very young then, younger than you're now. I met her in the woods of Rivendell... it seemed like a dream to me, for I had never seen anything as fair as she is", he spoke softly, and in his voice there was a tone Éomer had only heard when he spoke of Lord Elrond's daughter.

However, it did make him feel self-conscious. In his case one could certainly not speak of a dreamlike visions, unless one meant a nightmare.

"How did you know she was... I mean, what made you understand your heart, and your love for her?" he asked gingerly. He was already wondering if it had been such a good idea to ask Aragorn about this. After all, as far as he and Lady Arwen were concerned, their whole relationship sounded like a tale. Not to mention it sounded quite harmonious too; high Elven ladies were unlikely to spy on swimming kings, to name one thing.

"I suppose I knew as soon as I saw her. But my understanding of what I have for her grew with time – became deeper, you could say. And often she was what guided me through the evil things and darkness, even if she were far away. That the distance only made our bond stronger finally convinced me that I should never give up on her", Aragorn answered at length. The Rohir mulled over that, frowning to himself. The older man made it sound very simple, but Garafiell – though he knew it unlikely to be her real name – was nothing of the sort. She made no sense and yet she wouldn't leave his thoughts. And if their latest meeting in the stables had convinced him of anything it was the knowledge of how much he'd be able and willing to sacrifice to have her.

What an insufferable woman.

Aragorn's voice distracted him from these thoughts, which was probably a good thing.

"Do you wish to tell me what makes you ask these questions?" inquired his friend then, and Éomer could feel the keen grey eyes studying him.

"Hmm. You could say I'm trying to make sense of a nonsensical thing", he replied slowly. He wondered if he should tell his friend of the strange woman... but then, it wasn't like Aragorn could really do anything about it. On the other hand, he was the King of Gondor, and perhaps had some power or insight over this...

"Elfhelm says it would be considered an insult if I chose a Gondorian commoner to be my queen. Do you think so too?" asked the Rohir. Reasonably thinking, he was well aware it was but a lovely little dream, and one she might not agree with. Yet he could not help but just imagine how it could be like...

His friend didn't answer right away, but remained quiet for a while as he considered the question.

"It's difficult to say", he said after a moment, "For my part, I do not know the nobility and their ways very well as of yet. But it is indeed obvious many are hoping you might find a wife from the Gondorian court. As a king I must agree it would be politically a good thing, for it would strengthen our alliance and friendship."

He fell silent for a while, and when he continued it was in softer tones.

"However, as your friend I'd wish that you choose in a way that makes you happy", Aragorn said gently. They had stopped walking now, and the older man rested his hand on the shoulder of his friend.

Éomer sighed in frustration.

"If only one could choose both", he muttered and shook his head.

"Who is she, then? If I may ask?" Aragorn inquired as they continued their walk again.

"She won't tell me her name. And just when I think I've figured out her she just... she's extraordinary, Aragorn, and yet I have no idea who and what she even is", said the younger man with a mixture of bewilderment and admiration – that was, after all, what she always made him feel.

"This woman must be very special", Elessar commented softly, "and I wish I knew I could point you to the right direction. But I can only tell you this: you should ask yourself which option will help you the most as far as being a king goes. I am as new to this as you are, but Lord Elrond once told me that to be a good ruler one must build a strong foundation – find yourself a fixed star, and plant your own roots in steady and fertile soil. If you are at peace with yourself, then it is all the easier to fight the demons of the outside. Well, he used words much fairer than that, but the idea is the same, and I think he was right."

Briefly he fell silent and then continued, "I can't say what is your fixed star and where is your strong foundation. That you must figure yourself, my friend."

"Hmph. That does indeed sound like Elvish counsel", Éomer snorted, which made his friend smile. He asked then: "But as a king you would not hold it against me, even if a commoner was to become the Queen of Rohan?"

"No. I would not. But my approval may not equal the approval of our society, or your own", said Aragorn solemnly.

"Aye. That is what worries me, my friend", sighed the younger man.

And if she came tonight... then Béma knew what would happen.

No. I really shouldn't go. I really, really mustn't see him again.

With a "thunk", her arrow hit the bullseye, and as Lothíriel stood back to watch it quiver she felt momentary clarity and sureness: she wouldn't be going to the Rohirric camp and she definitely wouldn't be giving King Éomer another chance of messing with her head, to make her think of things she should not be thinking about. Yes, it was in a few days now that he'd leave, and then things could go back to normal, and she'd not see him again... perhaps not for a long while. Perhaps, by the time he returned, he would have forgotten all about her.

But then, as she took again aim and shot another arrow and it too landed in the exact centre of her target, a feeling of doubt rose. He had been so hopeful back in the stables – he'd be so disappointed if she didn't come. Really, it couldn't be so bad if she went for a little while? Just so that he could see her and perhaps show her around for a bit? She did like the idea of seeing more of the Rohirrim.

Yes. I should go. I'd like to see him again.

Then she realised how idiotic she was being, vacillating like this between two choices that were equally impossible in so many ways. At this point she didn't even know which side of her was vouching for which option, and it was maddening.

With a groan of frustration she tossed aside her bow and let out a groan of frustration. Dammit! Why did he have to be so annoying and constantly pester her so? Why couldn't he just leave her in peace? And why must his stupid, bearded, infuriating, comely face float into her mind all the time just like that? She hadn't given him the permission to do that!

"Lothíriel", called a voice then, and she turned to see Legolas approaching; his footfall was so soft she hadn't heard him coming. Possibly he could have walked all the way and hover behind her and she wouldn't even have noticed it if he hadn't announced himself.

"Hello, Legolas", she greeted him and even managed a weak smile. Suddenly she felt stupid for prancing about like so – she must have looked ridiculous to the Elf.

"You seem rather agitated. Is something wrong?" he asked gently, smoothly picking up her bow from the ground.

"I... it's just..." she started but found she didn't have words. What to tell him? Tired and frustrated, she groaned again, "It's nothing serious, really. I'm just obsessing about things that shouldn't matter."

"Could those things have anything to do with the King of Rohan?" asked Legolas and took aim with her bow, as if he had an invisible arrow with him. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard his words.

"What! Who told you that? Did you speak to him? Is he coming here? Oh sweet Elbereth, what am I ever going to-" she ranted in panic, but then Legolas stepped closer to her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"No, he does not know who you are", he said calmingly, which was such a relief she almost collapsed.

"And here you almost had me thinking he did", she muttered, rubbing her forehead. Then she cast a doubtful look at him and asked: "How do you know about it, anyway?"

Legolas smiled slightly.

"He asked me to tell you that you're not allowed to kill him for telling me the truth", he answered, which was really enough information for the princess. She groaned in frustration once more.

"That villain! Oh, I most definitely am going to kill him for meddling and spreading this tale!" she growled. If that little scene he had set up before had not warranted extreme violence, this certainly did.

"Lothíriel", said the Elf steadily and his voice instantly smothered her bloodthirsty mood. The expression in the eyes of Legolas was gentle when he spoke: "Your brother only wishes to help you. That is what I want too."

"Then help me to get rid of the King of Rohan or at least hide from him!" she said desperately.

"Don't you see you're only making this worse, for yourself and for him? The lie you have spun is not going to protect either of you from getting hurt. The longer you let it go on the more it will harm you and him when the truth is revealed", Legolas replied evenly, though the look in his eyes was now sympathetic. "And revealed it will be, sooner or later. You cannot hide from King Éomer, who is a friend of your father and your older brothers."

She lowered her eyes and bit her lip, unable to answer. So Legolas continued, "He is quick-tempered and will probably be angry at first, but he's not an evil man. He would understand. More importantly, he would forgive."

"I..." she mumbled, but words failed her. Perhaps Legolas did know the horselord better than she did – they had fought together in Helm's Deep and at the Black Gate – and anyway he could very well have some Elven insight to King Éomer's character she didn't possess. Should she do like he said, then?

"Lothíriel, do you not think he's worth the truth? That he deserves to know who you really are?" he asked gently, seeking her eyes.

"But he'll get so mad at me, and maybe at Father too. And after all that he's done for Gondor..." she mumbled, though spoken out loud it sounded really pathetic even to herself. But at this point it was more than that, she had to admit it. This thing had already stopped being about angering the Rohirric king and become much more than that – it had become a struggle against feelings she didn't understand, and somehow she had thought that by hiding from him she could hide from what moved in her heart, too.

"After all he has done and sacrificed, isn't truth what you should give to him?" Legolas pointed out. It was hard to argue with that. And perhaps it was just for the better to rip away the splinter once and for all. Father had taught her to be honest; now was a time for her to live up to what she had been brought up with.

"You have to tell him the truth", said the Elf, steady and soft at the same time.

And she knew he was right.

A/N: Here's a new chapter! Hopefully you, my dear readers, like it. :)

This chapter does not only contain some bonding between Aragorn and Éomer (which I think will be important for later) but also has our stubborn princess finally coming to an understanding of sorts. Her reactions so far may indeed have appeared irrational but that has been the point of it actually, and hopefully this chapter gives some explanation to that at least. Fortunately for her she has Amrothos there to interfere when she's being too pig-headed.

I know this is not quite so adventurous at the moment, but this part of the story is supposed to be for building the characters and their relationships anyway; I promise it should get more exciting in a chapter or two.

Thanks for reading!

Quote in the beginning originally by Thomas Paine.

Le Pleiade - Amrothos is indeed doing his best to push them both, perhaps we'll see some results to that pushing in the next chapter!

Sandy-wmd - I don't think she really argued the merits per say - she knows his knowledge about all things considering horses far excel her own. It was more about just her being cheeky at him because that's the only way (at that point a least) she can really react to him.

Honestly, I really don't know how that would work out in the Rohirric society. I'm not sure Tolkien would agree to it at least. Personally I see Rohirrim as pretty easygoing as far as sexuality goes, but on the other hand I'd imagine even they'd expect their rulers to act as paragons - to be people they can look up to. For now Éomer is merely entertaining the idea of wedding a commoner on a theoretical level because he doesn't want to make up his mind about it, and he'd want to be 100% certain she really isn't a lady before making any decisions. Moreover, I believe he'd respect her enough as an individual and a woman to not ask her to make such a sacrifice for him - to leave behind her home just to become a mistress to a king. Not only that, but he also understands she is a woman he'd need to give himself completely. In other words, she's someone he'd have to marry if he truly wants her.

As for Feran, I can't really say much about him for the moment, but that Éomer doesn't consider the idea that (if Erkenbrand's assessment is correct) this man would try for Éowyn's hand; he believes so much in his sister that he also trusts she'd see through power-hungry suitors.

Kiiimberly - I would say it is a combination of Imrahil's trust in Lothíriel (which will be explored, though maybe not so soon) and her having sneaked out without guards so many times that he has given up on trying to send some men with her. :D

Blitzkrieg - Hopefully this chapter has explained that matter at least. You're right in pointing out that Lothíriel's behaviour and reasoning seems erratic and irrational, but that's actually the point here. Initially it was about embarrassment and not wanting to disappoint her father, and she continues to try and convince herself that's what it all is about. But in truth it's much more: it's a reaction to a situation she hasn't been before, and feelings she hasn't experienced earlier in her young life. In short you could say that falling in love with a man who doesn't meet any of her expectations of males doesn't make Lothíriel the most logical person for the moment.