Then love knew it was called love.
And when I lifted my eyes to your name,
suddenly your heart showed me my way.

- "The Poetess"

Chapter 8

There was lots of staring.

Well, that wasn't really surprising after the scene they had just caused, and Lothíriel knew all of the city would have heard of it before the day had ended. Determined not to let her father hear of it by some second hand source, King Éomer had sent the one rider who had come with him to bring word to Prince Imrahil. He had given the message in Rohirric so Lothíriel could but wonder what was the content of it, because she was sure there was no way to make any of this sound less absurd or scandalous.

After the ship had docked again and they had apologised to Captain Uinost and his crew, they had landed in the port, and Lothíriel had tried to gaze at everything that wasn't the curious eyes of the crowd; obviously busy mouths were already weaving tales of this little scene that was quite something even for her, though it wasn't the first time she knew her antics were under larger scrutiny.

Anyway, it was obvious the conversation with the King of Rohan was due, and he had asked her to join him in the Rohirric camp.

"I would rather talk with you somewhere more private than this, my lady", he told her as they stood on the docks and her horse was brought back from the animal shed under the deck.

"Very well then", she agreed and sighed to herself. She had no idea of where this all would go, but so far it did not seem like there would be an argument. So, sending Bainiel and the one of her guards back to the city (the other she took along, because obviously she needed an escort now that she was making a formal appearance).

As they rode and left behind the port of Harlond Lothíriel felt kind of a crawling inside herself, and recognised it as her nerves making an appearance. She did not know for sure why they were announcing themselves now, considering what had happened on the deck of Star of Belfalas; she couldn't think a kiss like that could mean something awful would follow. And yet... as she glanced at the man riding beside her she was not able to shake off the doubtful feeling. It wasn't the prospect of sharing an honest conversation with him, nor the idea of more kissing... eventually, she understood: it was because she was now entering waters she did not know, and the outcome of talking things through with him could result in consequences that defined her life beyond more than just this or next year.

Still, as this feeling grew in her chest, she couldn't but glance again at the King of Rohan, and note the easy grace of his posture, how sunlight made his hair shine, the alienness and the wonderfulness of him... she could not deny it: this man had an impact on her unlike anything she had ever felt before.

If he asked her to follow him now, she knew it would be very difficult to say no. And a small voice at the back of her head asked: would it really be such a bad choice, then?

It was already late afternoon when they arrived to the Rohirric camp and Lothíriel could see some surprise on the faces of men who took their horses – that at least illuminated the spontaneous nature of this thing: the King wasn't supposed to be here, he ought to be up at in the palace with his friend King Elessar and the high nobility... and yet he was here, with her, making sure that the court would have enough things to be horrified at for an entire year.

He spoke then, focusing his eyes on Lothíriel, "Perhaps we could walk for a bit?

"Yes", she agreed in a soft little voice, and in silent agreement they headed outside the camp for some privacy. Her guard trailed after the, along with one Rohirric rider, but they kept their distance.

A silence passed between them as they walked ahead, and King Éomer kept his eyes ahead. Lothíriel stared towards a point in horizon as well, wondering if she should be the one to start this conversation, or if she should wait for him to say something. He solved that problem at least, when he turned his head so that he could see her, and broke the silence.

"I must confess, I keep wondering why I didn't see it before. You do look like..." he started gingerly and made a bewildered little gesture towards her. Somehow that made her relax a bit and she chortled.

"Like an actual princess when I'm properly dressed?" she asked. "It's just because I have a very good maidservant. Sometimes I think her sole purpose in life is to make me look like I actually had manners and grace."

He let out a soft snort-like sound.

"Forgive me, my lady. I still have some difficulty putting together the princess and the one who called herself Little Wolf", he said, but then narrowed his eyes in doubt, "Was that true at any rate?"

"It was", she said softly, feeling sudden hurt that he'd still have doubts about her. But then, he was entitled to it, after the merry chase she had lead him on. "I always spoke truth when... when you thought I was some mad archer woman, Sire."

"That was the real you then, wasn't it?" he asked. "The one who spoke things with such straightforward honesty, and always saw right through me..."

This seemed to be some kind of an epiphany to him, and Lothíriel wondered what he was thinking now. But she didn't know how to ask, because even now, after their paths had already entwined in so strange ways, she was...

Lothíriel realised she was slightly scared. And that was an emotion she had always disliked.

"To be honest, I'm still not sure I understand the reasoning behind your pretenses, my lady", he confessed, studying her face intently, but Lothíriel knew she'd have stumbled on her feet if she had met his gaze. So she turned again to look ahead.

"Well, to be honest, perhaps my reasoning was not very good in the end. I tried to tell myself it was all because I was scared of what you'd think of me if you knew. I didn't want you to know the wild little princess who has no manners, because I believed it'd make you think less of my father", she said softly. This apparently made no sense to him, which was understandable, and from the corner of her eye she saw King Éomer blinking at her. But suddenly a smile dawned on his face.

"Princess, if I want manners there are dozens of noble ladies ready to offer them to me at all hours of the day. Why do you think I kept asking for your name?" asked the King of Rohan.

"But... but isn't that what men like you are looking for? A graceful lady who commands the etiquette and knows what to say and how to act?" she wondered out loud. This was what she had learnt to expect with high lords. But then, he was different. Nothing about him so far had been like what she was used to.

At that point he stopped walking and placed hand on her shoulder, and Lothíriel halted too. Very carefully he turned her face towards himself. Yes, he was different: no other man would touch her like this, or make the gesture seem so natural.

"I don't want any ice-woman who is so petrified in her ways and propriety that it's like she was more statue than a living and breathing person. I want life. And since I came to this land, I have not met another woman who is quite so alive as you are. You are so... you're so full of life and spirit and fire, and it takes my breath away", he said softly. His eyes were fixed on her and in those dark depths there was a great light. Ever so gently, he lifted his hand and brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. He spoke again, even softer this time, "I do not think your father was right when he called you Little Wolf. No, you're not a wolf at all. You are Lioness."

For one moment longer than forever his gaze kept her under a spell, and she was nearly lost in the dark vivid eyes of the King of Rohan. The touch of his hand was a tender one for a warrior, and she let out a breath she hadn't noticed holding. But then something revolted in her, and she practically jumped back.

"You're far too familiar with me, you straw-brained oaf!" she exclaimed. Those words came out as if on their own, and in them was mixed all her uncertainty, all her fears, and most of all there was that word that had haunted the back of her mind: queen.

Because taking his hand now would mean a road she couldn't turn away from, and she had told Amrothos she didn't want crowns. She couldn't... she wasn't...

It roused terror in her and she turned, with the very serious attempt of dashing back into the camp and taking her horse, and then running, running far away from this man, and she'd find a place where her heart would not speak in these volumes... there the silence would deafen her, there she wouldn't remember his dark eyes, and that accursed word would cease to exist...

"Lothíriel!"

The sound of his voice when he called her name froze her right there. There it was, her name on his lips... the name he had so many times asked for.

Despite herself, she turned to glance at him over her shoulder. Oh, what a sight he was! The gold of his hair shining in the sun, the flames of his dark eyes, the very depth of his feelings radiating and filling the air...

"What?" she asked, just barely able to use her voice. He moved then, sharp and fast, and if possible his fiery spirit burned even more intense. He stopped beside her, lay his hands on her shoulders and turned her so that he could look at her properly.

"I love you", he told her, without flowery language or lengthy confessions: just the truth blurted out in a most straight-forward manner she had ever witnessed.

"I- I don't understand", she mumbled, though she certainly did, but she said that mostly out of just saying anything at all.

"I love you. Do you hear me, Lothíriel? This straw-brained oaf of a man loves you!" he told her heatedly. And his eyes were wide and vivid and had light that would burn her, the kind of burn she knew now she'd welcome should she succumb... but even more so, there was honesty and need in that dark gaze that would not let go of her.

In one moment that was somehow longer and larger than life itself she could see it – how easy it would have been to give in. And there was an entire future staring back at her: wedding this man, loving him, being his Queen. He wouldn't hate it that some days she might smell worse than he did or that she'd rather wear leggings instead of a gown. No, to him it was all the same... as long as she was. He loved her.

"My lord, I..." she started at last, but her voice came out hoarse and weak and the words dissolved even as she tried to grasp at them. Her mind had become empty, and all attempts just curled around the fact that King Éomer was standing before her, his declaration had stunned her, and the knowledge she held in her hands his heart.

King of Rohan...

"Please, say something", he said at last. He sounded slightly afraid now too, and it was not hard to guess why that was.

"Sire, I can't... you have to give me a little bit of space", she said, having recovered her voice. "I need to think of this. Some place where I... I can't do it with you here. You have a ruinous effect on me, and I have a need of my wits."

"Is that a no, then?" he asked quietly, colour draining from his voice.

"... I don't know", Lothíriel said. There was a tight feeling in her chest and she thought she might start crying again some time soon. Why did all this have to be so confusing!

She looked up at him then; his eyes were still on her, and he looked sad.

"My lord, I will not say yes or no to you yet. I really do have to take a step back and think of all this", she told him as gently as she could. Then noticing movement from the corner of her eye she glanced towards the direction of the city and saw a small group of riders approaching. On the front of them was carried silver and blue pennant she knew very well. With a sigh, she turned again to face the King, "And I have a strong feeling my father will agree with me."

Éowyn found him in the middle of the task of honing his sword. Of course, it was something he could have left for his esquire, but Éomer held the notion he could have received the kingship of the entire world and he would still care for his weapons himself. It had been one of the first lessons he had received: a warrior did not surrender that task to anyone else.

Also, perhaps his sword should be sharp for when Imrahil came to speak with him, as the Prince had announced upon retrieving his errant daughter.

"Thinking of princesses, brother?" asked Éowyn as she entered, and as he wasn't so sure of how he should react he just made a scoffing sound and concentrated again on his sword.

Quietly, she sat opposite him and considered him, and for a while he tried to pretend it didn't bother him. But eventually he had to look up and frown at her.

"What is it?" asked the young king

"I'm just trying to decide whether it's wise what you're doing", Éowyn said at last. Her eyes remained fixed on him.

"And why wouldn't it be?" Éomer asked nonchalantly.

"I don't know", she said softly. "Oh, don't look at me like that. I'm not here to tell you what you should or shouldn't do."

"Then what are you even talking about?" he inquired, slightly impatient now.

"I was just wondering... you're really sure about this? About her? You know a lot of people back in the Mark would like to see one of our own as your queen", Éowyn said tentatively. He shot a sharp glance at her.

"What, so it's only you then who gets to choose as you wish?" he demanded sharply, but as soon as that question was out of his mouth he regretted it. So he hurried off to apologise, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

With some chagrin he looked down and sighed heavily. He should know better than to blame his sister for her new-found happiness.

But Éowyn reached for his arm and her gentle touch assured him she wasn't hurt by his thoughtless words.

"Of course I want you to be happy, brother", she told him in soft tones that strangely reminded him of their late mother. Sometimes Éowyn was a lot like her, though she didn't really seem to notice that herself.

"I know that", he replied and looked up again. She didn't seem like she had taken offense, which made him feel relieved. However, her words still troubled him and he sought her face, "What makes you tell me this anyway? Have you heard something I should know of?"

"No. Not really. I just have this feeling", Éowyn said, her brow creasing. "I worry a lot for you, Éomer. Maybe it's a silly thing but I do. And I keep wondering how things will be in the next year, and the year after it. It's not to say I don't trust you and your judgement – I know you'll be a good king. But these past few years have so torn our people and I don't think it's going to be easy to heal those wounds."

"And you think the best way to achieve that would be by marrying a woman of the Mark?" he asked.

"Like I said, I don't know", she sighed and pulled back, but the frown did not disappear from her face.

"It would be a good match, though. Princess Lothíriel is Imrahil's daughter, and he is a great lord in this land. We will need Gondor's aid to recover fully", Éomer told her. "I think our people would love her, if they just got to see her. She is... she is young still, and foolhardy, but there is great potential in her. She could grow to be something extraordinary."

"If you think so, then I believe you. But our people don't know her. All they will see is the name of her father. They will expect a proper lady of Gondor", Éowyn pointed out.

"And that's why I'm going to ask her to visit Rohan. All of the Mark will see that there's none like her", he insisted.

A slight smile appeared on the face of Éowyn.

"I hope you're right, brother."

Rain softly drizzled outside, painting the garden of Father's house grey. Absent-mindedly Lothíriel watched the trickle of raindrops down the window, allowing her mind wander. She was seated on the window board, hugging her knees close to her chest.

Her mind did not remain on that wandering path for long. Instead it turned to yesterday and the conversation with the King of Rohan... how Father's arrival had interrupted it as he had come to take his unruly daughter home. She had expected him to be angry, and perhaps he had initially been, what with the way she ran back and forth like the headless chicken. But when he had come there and seen not only her but also the man who loved her, Father had...

Lothíriel mused he had seen something there on their faces, and he had understood somehow. He had asked if she'd come home now and she had said yes. She had murmured farewell to the Lord of the Mark, which words he had returned dispassionately. As soon as she had her horse she had ridden back to the city with Father and told him she was sorry. When she said the King had effectively proposed to her he hadn't even seemed surprised.

She had seen him going out that evening and Amrothos ratted out Father had gone to meet King Éomer; when she had seen him at breakfast she hadn't asked what they had talked about or if they had come to any kind of an agreement. Father would tell her, if necessary.

And the question remained: what should she do now?

"Thinking of horselords, sister?" asked the voice of Amrothos from the door with the effect of distracting her endlessly mulling mind, but she didn't bother turning to look at him. Instead, Lothíriel just snorted as an answer.

Her brother made way to the window and sat down beside her. She could feel his eyes on him but still she didn't grant him a glance.

"Do you know what's the gossip of the day?" he asked. At last the princess gave him a brief look.

"Brother, whenever have I shown interest in the court gossip?" she asked back. "If you want to tattle, go find someone who actually finds that worth their while."

He rolled his eyes at her words.

"Oh, please. Your pretense of being indifferent isn't fooling me and you know that", he told her patiently. "You know very well all they have talked about since yesterday was that scene you and the King of Rohan made in Harlond. They're coming up with most wondrous tales – you wouldn't believe half of it."

"Amrothos, I have no idea why you would think I have any interest in what people know or what they think they know", Lothíriel said, trying for an unaffected tone. "Not to mention I'm not sure what makes you believe I really need to hear your opinion on the love life of King Éomer."

"Oh, I think I have every right to inform you of my opinions, considering I'm the one who sent him after you in the stables the other day, and how I asked Legolas to talk with you... also, how do you think the King happened to Harlond just when you were about to leave?" he asked and chuckled to himself.

She grimaced and let out a groan. Of course she should have known he wouldn't be able to keep his nose off this matter.

"But it's all gone so wrong – I'm always screaming at him or running away from him and it's not... this is not how it's supposed to go", she mumbled weakly.

"How is it supposed to go then? Sister, knowing the two of you screaming at each other is not a problem. As a matter of fact such an encounter is only ever going to make you obsess about each other – which, I believe, has already been proved by this chase he has given you. You must have realised already he admires women as spirited as you... and ultimately you could never hate a man who can handle you in the middle of one of your rampages. In other words, you're practically made for each other", Amrothos said. Well, a lot of what he said made sense in a way, but she'd be damned if she admitted to thinking so.

"Your imagination is running wild, brother", she said and looked away so that he wouldn't see the doubt in her eyes.

"I don't know why you keep denying it. It's obvious, sister, even to you. Lothíriel, you are just as aware of this as I am. Éomer King fancies you! And I think you fancy him back!" he announced triumphantly.

The princess groaned and hid her face in her hands.

"It's none of your business! Would you just leave it be!" she complained in frustration.

"Really, sister, I don't see what your problem is here. He's a good man – temperamental of course, and kind of mad, but that should suit you just fine. He's absurd enough even for your tastes... and I don't think there's any other man in the western lands who could stand against you on your more boisterous moments quite as finely", said her brother, grinning widely. "Not to mention Father likes him too. You can't really dream of a better match."

"Please, just let it go. I don't need your opinion on this", Lothíriel tried, kind of miserably. The worst thing was that Amrothos was right.

"You're being nonsensical, sister. Really, what's the matter? What is this about?" he asked and his voice became gentler.

"Because I've treated him horribly all this time. And I can't be a queen. I don't... it's just... Amrothos, I'm scared where this road would take me", she mumbled, feeling small and weak.

Gently, he lay his hand on hers and gave it squeeze.

"Why? Why are you scared of where it might take you? Let's be honest here, sister. A Gondorian man would never make you happy, but in Rohan you'd be free to be who you are. In fact, I think Éomer would only love you more for it. And I see that you like him too. Otherwise you wouldn't try to deny it so fiercely. Lothíriel, he might be your only chance of ever marrying for love", he told her solemnly.

"But what if I don't want to marry? I never thought that would be an option for me, anyway. And you do realise what it would mean? He's king! I don't think I'd make a very good queen... Amrothos, it's just too uncertain. I like him, yes... but is that enough? I would be a disappointment to him and to everyone..." she murmured, looking down. Somehow those words brought a choking feeling to her and she let out a trembling breath.

Her brother placed a hand on her own. When she glanced at him he was smiling.

"You make it sound like the wedding would be tomorrow if you allowed him close. And who says you have to wed him? Give him a chance to woo you – see what kind of a man he is, though I think you have a good idea of that already. You must stop running away, because it's only going to make you both miserable. Lothíriel, if you let him go now you are going to regret it", he told her.

Amrothos was right. His logic was sound and attempts to find faults in his words only resulted in a growing feeling that maybe she was making a mistake here, clinging so stubbornly to her doubts and fears. She thought about the King of Rohan... well, not the crown part, nor the marriage thing. Just him – his smiles and laughter and voice, the warmth of his eyes and his hands that had a tender touch and how being enveloped in his arms stirred a part of her she had barely known to exist...

These thoughts felt like he was here, and Lothíriel remembered how easy it could be when they spoke and were alone, how much she liked it when she could make him laugh, and her resistance crumbled; something inside her heart unclenched. There was simple beauty to it all, the kind she had not seen before now because of her stubborn insistence to keep her eyes closed.

She was not left to ponder on this epiphany for long, for the door of the parlour was opened and a servant of the household entered. He bowed at the two children of Imrahil, and then spoke: "A messenger sent by the King of Rohan is at the door. He says the King sends his regards, and would like to know if the Princess of Dol Amroth will tonight attend to his farewell feast."

Lothíriel glanced quickly at Amrothos, as if she somehow needed his support. His smile widened and he patted her shoulder encouragingly – it wasn't hard to guess what he was thinking.

So she took a deep breath and looked back to the servant.

"You may tell this messenger to bring a word to the King that the Princess will indeed attend."

Merethrond was already bustling with people when Lothíriel and Amrothos arrived, side by side. The hall had been cleared of tables and instead space had been made for socialising and likely even dancing. But Lothíriel made little notice of it: instead, her eyes were scanning the hall cautiously.

Indeed, as the herald called her and Amrothos' names, many heads turn towards the pair of doors she and her brother were standing at. She nearly winced at the realisation that he had not exaggerated when he had said the whole city was talking about the moment's social event (which, of course, was the dealings of the King of Rohan with the local eccentric princess). But she lifted her chin and decided curious eyes and mutterings she could endure.

Mostly, she endured because of the look she was receiving from the King himself. She had almost instantly spotted him in the crowd, because he always stood out, and his eyes were fixed on her too. But there was no curiosity or judgement on his face. Rather, his gaze shone with great light and he seemed happy to see her. Sometimes it surprised her, how this man lived with such a passion and held back none of his emotions; there was a fire burning in him, and she thought he was more alive than any other man in this hall.

"Well, sister?" asked Amrothos softly as they made their way towards the King of the horselords.

"We'll see", she replied to him, though it looked like he already knew. He grinned at her.

"Have fun", he whispered to her and then left her side, and she approached the golden-haired man alone. Her heart was now beating faster and there was a strange breathless feeling in her chest. But then she met the gaze of the King and the warmth she saw there encouraged her, and a slow little smile made its way on her face.

And then at last she was nearing him and almost like out of instinct but certainly without thinking he extended a hand towards her... the palm of his hand he offered to her, and Lothíriel wasn't sure she'd be able to let go if she took it now. One moment more she hesitated, but then her doubts fled in the light of his eyes, so honest and true, and she took his hand and thus sealed her fate.

Imrahil's face had been solemn when he had arrived to talk with the King of Rohan as evening had fallen, and even without the solemn expression on the Prince's face Éomer had known what it was about. Indeed, as soon as he had offered a drink to his friend and they were seated, Imrahil asked for his version of events of late. At first he was worried this all might have somehow insulted the man, especially considering his rather shameless actions of the day... but as he had explained he only wished her well, and that the best he hoped was to lawfully wed her, a smile had eventually come to Imrahil's face.

He had reached over and patted the arm of the young king and said: "That's all I really needed to hear, my friend."

That had surprised Éomer at least, as he had expected Imrahil might be angry and accuse him of dishonouring his daughter and whatnot, and he had voiced out this concern. But the Prince had just given him a friendly look.

"The only dishonour you would do to her and to me if you now backed away. I see it now, my friend, as I should have realised the moment I saw you for the first time. If my dear, wild daughter might ever love anyone, it is you..." he had spoken softly. He fell silent then, but soon continued talking.

"You should probably thank Amrothos for all this. He spoke to me after we came home, and explained how it was his actions that initiated what happened in Harlond. He has much faith in you, and he asked me to do the same. Amrothos knows Lothíriel perhaps better than anyone, and he has always had a way for handling her the way I never could. So, I have decided to trust him in this matter", said Imrahil softly. Then he smiled again, "My daughter has her own way of doing things, and I've long since seen there's no changing that. Your bold move was perhaps the only thing that could get through to her... I suppose by now you have seen how stubborn she can be, and sometimes she will not listen to anyone. And if she decides to say yes, I expect you to take care of her and make her happy."

Then he had frowned, "Though I must say I truly wish she'll say yes. Otherwise I'm not sure if this uproar will ever die or if I'll have peace of mind."

The conversation and Imrahil's effective approval had left the young king relieved but also impatient and frustrated, because Lothíriel made no noise about herself: evidently she was still in the process of trying to make up her mind. But no matter what happened, he knew he owed Amrothos his thanks for helping out.

Éomer had spent the next day in anxiety and vacillating between different courses of action. An annoyingly persistent voice nagging at the back of his mind had insisted he should seek for the Princess Lothíriel – make a house call or something, and try to persuade her somehow, maybe by kissing or kidnapping her. Then there was the voice of reason trying to muffle those wholly irrational urges. She had wanted space and that was what he ought to give her. But what if she decided this all was a very poor idea?

So he waited, and waited, and hoped. Elfhelm noticed of course and invited him to a sparring session, which he welcomed; concentrating on swordplay wiped his mind blissfully empty of obsession-inspiring princesses.

However, as the day grew older so did his restlessness. Tomorrow he was set to leave for Rohan and now there was a dreadful thing on his mind: what if Princess Lothíriel would not make another appearance? What if he didn't even get to say goodbye to her, not to mention any answer as to whether she might consider his proposal?

So, at last he had given in a bit and sent a messenger to inquire if she'd be attending to the farewell party... and her affirmative response had made him giddy and slightly mad. Elfhelm had sighed and shook his head. Well, truth be told he did feel like a very young rider again, something that had not happened in years.

Éothain had reported the events of yesterday had created a stir in the society, which he had instantly seen when he had arrived to Merethrond. Stares were numerous and poorly hidden, and there was some soft chatter as well, but he decided to treat the matter with the air of indifference; organising what he hoped was a serene look on his face he sought the company of Aragorn, who thankfully made no comments about anything that even remotely touched the matter of Princess of Dol Amroth.

When she arrived with her brother and the herald announced her name, Éomer quickly turned to look at her, and he wondered what had brought her here tonight. Was she going to request he leave her alone? Or was there any chance he might receive a positive answer?

So, when she made her way through the crowd, he had eyes only for her... and she met his gaze, and her sea-grey eyes were deep as the waters of Ulmo. When she smiled, his heart leapt in a burst of hope. She did not move with any particular grace, her beauty was not extraordinary, but there was something about her which caught him completely. Was it the boldness of her eyes, or the light sparkling in them? Did it come from the genuineness of her smiles or the naturalness of her manners? He did not know, but of one thing Éomer was certain. He was smitten with this girl.

"My lady", he said softly, drinking in the sight of her as she finally stopped there before him and placed her hand in his. This was, after all, the last night before his departure. "I am glad to see you came."

A faint smile touched her face.

"Well, it is your farewell feast, Sire. It seemed to me I ought to participate, after all that has happened since we first met in the woods of Ithilien", she answered.

"Aye. And I must say I rest much easier now that I know who is the woman who screamed at me in such manner in the twilight", he said, unable to hold back. That did not make her blush, but instead she snorted.

"Are you perhaps thinking we should part in alike way, my lord? Give the court one more little show?" she asked. While the idea was entertaining and it would have made permanently clear what a hopeless case he was, he shook his head.

"No, my lady. I'd rather leave with the memory of you smiling at me, not screaming", he informed her.

"Then I'll try to smile for you Sire", she said, the corners of her mouths twitching.

"Thank you, my lady", he said, answering that little half-smile with one of his own.

Only now did he become aware of the eyes still fixed on the two of them, and he regarded her quizzically.

"Lady Princess, could I perhaps ask you to join me in the garden? I'd like to speak with you in peace and quiet, without half the court staring at ourselves", Éomer suggested.

"Yes, quite", she agreed with a small cringe that creased her face into a pout he found kind of adorable, and it was difficult to tear his eyes away from her. The princess gave him a searching look, "Meet you outside in five minutes, Sire?"

"As my lady commands", he said, bowing his head. That brought another of those half-smiles to her face and he decided it was a very good thing they'd be continuing this conversation outside, because he feared he might kiss her any moment now, and one public display such as that was really enough.

The princess slipped away, ever masterful in the art of eluding, and he slowly made his way towards the great doors leading outside... and trying to look both carefree but ominous, as he didn't want to be stopped by any others now. He took note of Amrothos, who was grinning madly at him, which was hopefully a good sign. He'd have to thank the prince later for all his aid.

Five minutes later, as they had agreed, he found her outside. The Moon was already walking the high gardens of the sky and calm had fallen over the White City. But Éomer only had eyes for the young woman looking over Mundburg.

"Sire", she greeted him when he stopped at her side. "Are you looking forward to returning your home?"

"I suppose a part of me does", he said softly, tearing his gaze away from her for a moment, "but so many things have changed... it feels like going back to your home and seeing that not only your house been put down and built anew in some other place and filled with things I don't recognise, but also finding it occupied by strangers. The world I've known has ended."

It had been little over month since the passing of Sauron, but events leading to it seemed like something that had happened in another world. The days of his youth had been filled with struggle and darkness and hope had always been small... but now a new day was dawning and there was a promise of peaceful future. Yet peace had its own challenges, and while he was a king in title, there was much he would have to learn about ruling. It was no wonder that the nights were long and sleepless, for his mind would race with all that he would have to face once he went home. There a war-ravaged land awaited him, he would have to become a man of peace instead of war, and he would have to bury his uncle.

But then he could feel a light touch on his arm and the brush of her fingers had his heart trembling... filling it with hope instead of doubt. How did she do it? It was rarely now that a woman would affect him so... but she did, with even smallest gestures.

"I did not have a chance to offer my condolences for your loss. I am sorry that you lost your uncle, my lord", she said softly.

"He fell in glory and honour", Éomer said plainly. True that was and he knew the man wouldn't want him grieving too much, but the loss of Théoden had been like the loss of a father... all these celebrations had not left time for mourning him, but perhaps that too would change with going home.

"I'm sure you'll live up to his legacy, my lord. You're tenacious enough, at least. I have seen it first hand", she said wryly and he recognised her attempt to cheer him up. Indeed, it made him smile.

"That you have, my lady", he agreed. He searched her eyes then, and dared to voice out his wish: "I will not be away for too long, though there is much to mend and to heal in my realm. I'll soon be returning to bring Uncle home. I... I wonder whether I might find you here then."

"You're asking me to wait for you, Sire?" she asked softly. Almost instinctively, he took a step towards her, but she stood where she was and the distance between them was now far smaller than would have been considered proper.

"I would like to see you again, Lady Lothíriel", he answered. "For as you must know by now I am leaving my heart to your keeping."

She looked down then, and he feared he had been too blunt. Wasn't this just the kind of thing he had scared her away with yesterday?

"I understand I still owe you an apology for my behaviour yesterday. It wasn't my intention to scare you off with my straight-forward ways. Nor do I mean it now, but I'd take my leave in honesty, if that please you", Éomer said quickly.

But Lothíriel looked up then and he saw that she smiled, though there was something bittersweet there.

"Oh, you didn't scare me, my lord. It wasn't you that upset me, and you're not upsetting me now. No, it was just my own distrust in myself, because I feared what I'd do if I had stayed a moment longer", she said softly.

"And that is the reason you still keep running away from me, isn't it?" he asked, as gently as he was able. The wish to touch her was getting more desperate now, but he knew he had to hold back, lest she ran away again.

"I suppose so, yes. You have never scared me – just the effect you have on me, my lord. The closer you get the more difficult I find it to rule myself", Lothíriel said quietly. She looked down then, and was silent for a moment that felt long like a life-time, and he held his breath. But then she lifted her eyes again and continued, "How stupid is it? For all my defiance and free spirit and so called bravery I could but run. For all the fire I claim to possess this is the thing I'm afraid of: my own heart."

Oh, Lothíriel...

"Don't be afraid, Lady. I didn't call you the Lioness just to appeal to you. Your heart is... I see it's made of strong stuff, stronger than you even realise. Trust it. And trust me", he told her very gently, and he couldn't hold himself back; he brushed his hand across her cheek. "I would give mine to you, if you'd have it. No, it is already yours. And it would be the greatest honour and the greatest gift if you would accept it... it is true, what I told you yesterday. This straw-brained oaf loves you with all the fire of his heart and soul."

Lothíriel did not answer right away. Instead, she looked up at him, as if she were seeking for an answer to some unspoken question He tried to smile at her but found that difficult, for his heart was about to burst with the depth and intensity of what he had for her... this Lady Archer who had charged from the evening and conquered him with one single arrow.

Ever so gently, he took her face between his hands, and she looked up at him, searching his eyes... somehow it made him feel so weak, for in her face and in her eyes he could see all he had ever dreamt of. He saw his future shining in those grey luminous pools, an entire life well-lived, the children they could have, and then at last growing old together.

That moment, when he gazed into her eyes and felt her skin under his fingers, he knew it would have to be her or no one else.

"You are", he uttered clumsily, not sure how to continue. There was so much he ought to say, and he needed her to understand how his heart felt like it wouldn't quite fit in his chest, but he was but a soldier and had no words for emotions this overwhelming.

"I am?" she asked softly.

"I'd like you to be", he corrected himself; after all, it was her choice, and she had not said yes.

He kissed her then, and between each kiss he murmured a word: "Future."

A kiss on her forehead.

"Fortune."

A kiss on her cheek.

"Fate."

And finally, her lips.

A/N: Here's an update! Hope you like this new chapter.

I believe here Lothíriel begins to really understand what she feels for Éomer, but she's still scared. After all, choosing to say yes would have great and large consequences. But like the conversation with Amrothos makes her understand, it's not Éomer she's unsure about - just the idea of becoming a queen. And perhaps she now knows to trust her heart, like our favourite horselord tells her.

In case you're wondering about Imrahil's reaction - it may seem kind of mild - actually he's for the moment wanting to let Lothíriel and Éomer settle the matter by themselves and see how it goes. Still, I have no doubt he'd interfere if he deemed it necessary. Hearing that a proposal of marriage has been made reassures him at least, and Amrothos' opinion of the matter has indeed done a lot to convince Imrahil. He knows his daughter well enough to understand his interference would probably not sit well with her, and that she must really be taken with Éomer to be acting this way.

Thanks for reading!

Quote in the beginning originally by Pablo Neruda.

Kiiimberly - Well, sometimes you just have to do the odd thing. :D

The Hare and the Otter - That's just what I thought too!

Talia119 - Hopefully this chapter at least answers to your questions about Imrahil. He pretty much knows both his daughter and Éomer are people he can't just force into doing anything, not without upsetting each party in the process. Lothíriel at least would probably throw a proper fit and make a complete scene out of it, and I don't think Imrahil would want to endanger his friendship with the King of Rohan. There's political dimension to it as well: after the help given by the Rohirrim to Gondor Imrahil doesn't really want to start an argument with their king. He figures it's for the better to watch and wait for now, because the two obviously do have something going on, and it could work out just like that without him complicating the matter. Also, as Imrahil reveals, it's partly because Amrothos' interference. Our matchmaking prince is determined it will work out and though he may be a carefree person, the workings of Lothíriel's mind are something Imrahil knows he can trust Amrothos to make sense of.

Sandy-wmd - Oh yes, never underestimate the Rohirric single-mindedness! :D

Elealyon - Thank you so much for your review! I'm very glad and thankful that you took time to write it down. It really made me happy. :)

I'm concerned with the logic and realism of the storyline as well, and I'm glad to hear you appreciate that too. I think it was Tom Clancy who said fiction has to make more sense than reality, and I agree with him. It's sometimes a difficult line to walk, because on the one hand the story has to make sense but on the other hand even the smartest people can sometimes be really illogical and irrational, and there are times I feel like everyone doesn't really agree with that.

Anyway, I'm glad you've enjoyed my stories so much, and I hope you will continue to have good time reading them! :)

annafan - Punching people and jumping into ships - they really must be made for each other! :D