My face in thine eye, thine in mine appeares,
And true plaine hearts doe in the faces rest,
Where can we finde two better hemispheares
Without sharpe North, without declining West?
What ever dyes, was not mixed equally;
If our two loves be one, or, thou and I
Love so alike, that none doe slacken, none can die.
- Galdor of Lebennin

Chapter 54

The first thing Lothíriel knew in the morning was the fact that it was quiet. Unnaturally so, really: she was used to the noises of the camp, and their absence was what brought her to full consciousness.

She opened her eyes and she saw was her husband, sleeping quietly beside her. As always, he had wrapped an arm about her, and his features bore nothing but peace and tranquillity.

Content with the knowledge that Éomer was fine she lifted up her head and looked around. This was not a tent in their camp... instead, she saw a spacious chamber she didn't first recognise in her sleepy confusion. But eventually her mind cleared and she was able to place the room and the objects around her. The tapestry on the wall depicting the White Horse running free on the field of green and gold, the armour stand in one corner, the large chests, the table and chairs by the window... she was in the royal chambers of Meduseld, the war was won, and her husband slept calm and undisturbed beside her. All was well.

Carefully she lay herself back down, as to not disturb her sleeping king. It was a curious feeling, to savour the knowledge there was no strife waiting for them today. No battles awaited planning, there was no worry someone was plotting their death out there. When he'd wake up, they would maybe linger in the bed for a little while more, until they'd call for some breakfast, and then...

Then it was the future that waited for them. He'd go and try to be a king again, and she'd figure out if she could actually manage the tasks of Lady of the Golden Hall. The thought made Lothíriel shiver at first and then she wanted to laugh at herself. She had travelled south, faced scoundrels and mercenaries and vengeful tribesmen of Harad, she had brought back a troubled man and helped him to heal, and fought a civil strife. And being the queen was what scared her!

Her trembling had alarmed Éomer and he woke up, and there was that brief wild look in his eyes before he remembered where he was – as though even now, he still expected to wake up in captivity. She wondered if that look might ever disappear for good. Then again, perhaps he was just as disoriented as she had been on the moment of waking. She smiled and leaned close to kiss him, and when she pulled, back she saw the calm returned into his gaze.

"Good morning, beloved", she murmured softly.

"Morning, my dear Queen", he replied and his grip around her became tighter. For a while, they remained so, and looking at him she knew he was gathering his strength. A lot had happened since he had ruled here as the king... the return to the throne, to being the man his people needed him to be, would not come without challenges.

"I am with you", she told him softly. A sad little half-smile, the kind that only made one corner of his mouth lift, touched his face.

"Aye. You are", he said, his voice not much more than a whisper. He moved closer to kiss her, and it was the slow lingering kind that tasted of tenderness.

"And I know you will do well", she continued and gently caressed his hair.

"If I do, it will be because of you, dear one", he murmured, kissed her one more time, and then his eyes became stark and clear. "Ready?"

"I am."

Time had come indeed.

One night, less than a week after the feast for their return, Lothíriel woke up in the middle of the night and found she was alone in the bed. When she touched the sheets and the pillow next to her, she did not feel his lingering warmth – he had been gone from her side for a while.

Concerned she got up, and as soon as she had lit a candle and wrapped a robe about herself, she went to search for her husband.

She found him in the next chamber, fully clothed and his form tense as he stared out to the moonlit plains.

"Is something wrong?" Lothíriel asked carefully.

"I was just out riding", he replied, not turning to meet her gaze.

"What is it, beloved?" she asked again and laid a hand on his forearm. Now Éomer sighed and gradually she could feel him relaxing.

"You know people have been asking about the full tale of what happened in the south", he said at length. "I see now I cannot tell them the truth, not as long as I live."

"Why is that?" she inquired as she placed the candle on a table and wrapped both her arms about his waist. Indeed, there had been inquiries about the journey south and back – she had not spoken a word of it to anyone except Éowyn. It was not her story to share.

"To do to a king what Sapat did... it is not just to violate a person. It is to violate a people. Rohirrim are proud and fierce, and if they knew the full truth, they would demand payback. Yet the only thing that would come out of it would be more damage to the soul of our people, more unbearable losses. I see it now, Lothíriel; vengeance cannot bring remedy. And more than anything I need to heal the Riddermark", he explained in a quiet voice.

Lothíriel lay her head against his shoulder and held him tight for a while. But eventually she looked up at him.

"I see what you mean. If that is your wish, then I will support you", she said softly. "Just... do not let it consume you by keeping it all inside. I would not let your soul receive more damage."

The much awaited guests arrived about two weeks after Lothíriel and Éomer had returned to Edoras. A rider, stationed at the Dimholt Road for this very thing, arrived before them, and there were no boundaries to Lothíriel's joy when she heard her father was on his way to Edoras. Her happiness was only dimmed by the fact Elphir and Aredhel could not come – he stayed behind to keep things up and running in Father's absence, and she was hardly in the condition for travelling, as she was with child.

The young queen had sent the invitation as soon as the Kin-strife had ended, but she knew he could not just jump in the air and speed to Rohan the moment he got her letter. They had also invited Faramir and he would have to make his own preparations, and so it took almost a month from the sending of the letter before the Queen's Gondorian family members could make it to Edoras.

Lothíriel knew it was not easy for Éomer to free himself from the council chamber and his study for spare moments, but on this day he did, and he stood beside her to receive her father and cousin. He also kept telling her she'd see them soon, she needed to calm down, and if she fell and broke her neck running down the steps, he would be quite upset. Éowyn was there as well – she was anxious to be reunited with her own husband. ("If I have to leave him again any time soon, what happened to the Witch-king will look like a very small thing.")

Though the young queen had missed her father more than she could put in words, she was still not prepared for the flood of emotions she felt when he finally entered the courtyard of the Golden Hall. There he was at last, dignified and smiling, arrayed in the silver and blue of Dol Amroth... he was almost exactly the same as she remembered him, the only changes being some lines of worry on his face she had not seen before.

The cry of delight and emotion erupted from her lips, echoed by that of Éowyn as she glimpsed Faramir, and then she went leaping down the steps, running towards her father. He barely had time to dismount before she was on him, and when she threw her arms about his neck they were both crying.

"Father! Father!" was the only thing she could say and he mumbled sweet nonsense and a variety of pet names he had given her when she had been but a small girl.

"I missed you so much", she just about managed and he held her a bit tighter, if that was possible.

"As I missed you, my dear daughter. I was so afraid I would not see you again", he replied. His own voice was not much stronger than hers. "Please, let me look at you."

She pulled back some to let him regard her properly. Tears were still in his eyes but some wonder too as he looked at her, from head to toe. She smiled at him and drank in the sight of him as well – Lothíriel felt she could easily have spent the rest of the day just staring at her dear father.

"Sweet Elbereth", Father murmured, "the last I saw you were a wild little princess. Now I behold a woman and a queen."

She let out a sound that somehow was a sob and a laugh at the same time. She hugged again her father and fought the tears that were threatening to pour out once more.

"Your father is right. I almost didn't recognise you at first, cousin", spoke Faramir's soft voice. Now Lothíriel turned to look at him. He was the same as ever, standing with arms about Éowyn's shoulders, and smiling brilliantly. Her sister-in-law looked like she would not be letting go of him any time soon.

Now it was his turn to get a crushing hug and a multitude of kisses.

"It's good to see you as well, Faramir", she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and smiling at the guests.

"Welcome to Edoras, my friends. Not only am I happy to see you again after such a long time, but I'm also grateful now that my Lothíriel is not climbing on walls anymore", spoke Éomer as he approached the guests, smiling and spreading his arms in a welcoming gesture. She glanced from Faramir to her father, only to see the look on their faces she recognised: they noticed the changes in her husband, but being subtle men they were trying to hide it.

"You are a sight for sore eyes, Éomer", Father said and without a further word he reached to embrace his son-in-law right there. "And I'm truly happy now that you're home again."

"As am I, Imrahil", said the younger man softly.

Faramir embraced him as well, and as the company of Gondorians and two Rohirrim gazed about themselves, there passed a moment of silence... a moment of understanding. There was something bittersweet about it as well.

Lothíriel broke it, reaching to link her arm with that of her father, and summoning a smile on her face, "Please, come inside. You have travelled a long way and we can't keep you standing about in the courtyard like this."

Some time later, she sat in the royal quarters with Éomer and her father. Faramir and Éowyn had more or less disappeared and she didn't expect them to make another appearance today. As such, she had already made sure they would be brought supper later on and a hot bath on the morrow.

Now, sitting comfortably and with a cup of wine with his hand and refreshed from the long road, Father looked like a content man.

"But please tell me, where are Amrothos and Erchirion? I had expected to see them here", he said and glanced about, as though the two princes might be hiding somewhere in the room.

"They rode to Aglarond with Gimli and Legolas over a week ago. They are due back tomorrow, as we hoped they might be here when you'd arrive, but you travelled faster than I expected", Lothíriel explained. Father nodded and smiled.

"I had rather hoped to see Aglarond as well, but perhaps that will have to wait for another visit", he retorted and sipped his wine. His reason was not lost to her: he had come to the Mark for her and Éomer, not for touring the land.

He cleared his throat suddenly and straightened. A slight frown appeared on his face.

"It is perhaps unseemly to begin with this question, seeing there are so many things we have to talk about, but it has concerned me much as of late, and I would put my mind to rest sooner rather than later", he started slowly. Lothíriel felt nervous suddenly and glanced at her husband. Éomer seemed to share her feelings, or so she guessed by his frown.

Father regarded them solemnly.

"You were married in the Rohirric fashion, yes?" he asked at last, which had her heart making an unpleasant misstep. She was already wondering if he had some complaint about it – that he'd tell her he did not regard their marriage abiding and she would have to come home.

"We were indeed. Amrothos and Aunt were there, and we also repeated the ceremony before Rohirrim. To them we are a husband and a wife", confirmed Lothíriel and looked again at her beloved. Éomer was staring at Imrahil quietly, his mouth a straight line.

But then Father smiled gently and her concern left her – she knew him well enough to understand what his smile meant.

"Well then. I suppose I have nothing to complain about, except the fact that I didn't get to be there to see my daughter marry the man she loves", he said, his voice soft as he regarded the two before him. "The marriage contracts were finished before the war, people of the Mark regard you married, and obviously you have also been living as such... not to mention the Rohirrim have accepted Lothíriel as their queen. If I tried to interfere now, it would only cause a scandal and unwanted calamity. That would not be good for Rohan and subsequently to Gondor... I'm quite certain Aragorn would come after me with vengeance. We all need some peace and quiet."

Relieved, Lothíriel put aside her own mug of ale and reached to touch her father's hand. She gave him a smile she hoped contained all her gratitude and joy.

"Thank you, Father. I had feared you would not accept our union, and it is a great relief to us both to know we have your blessing", she said.

"You have had my blessing for a long time", he told her gently. "That blessing came fullest in a ball in Minas Tirith, the night before Éomer and Rohirrim left Gondor. For in that farewell feast I saw how you looked at each other, unaware of everything else around you, and I knew your fates were already intertwined. I admit I am not foolhardy enough to try and stand between such a thing."

Afterwards, Father said a bit more; Éomer had excused himself, because the mountain of work he had found awaiting him at their return had not grown much smaller, and these days he was spending most of his waking hours trying to overcome that mountain. He could not leave that task even for the sake of visiting family. Father had rightly seen he could not be so frank with Éomer around, but to Lothíriel could say these words without worry.

"All that I said before is true of course", he said softly, considering her with gentle eyes. "But there's more to it, my dear child. I see that he needs you more than we do... and the way he looked at me before, it was clear to me he was wondering if I had come to take you home. I do not doubt he'd declare a war on me if that had been my intention. It was plain in his eyes then, Lothíriel: if anyone ever tried to take you away from him, he'd kill that unhappy soul, no matter who it was."

There was no humour in Father's voice when he said that. And of course he was right. Lothíriel nodded in agreement, because there was not really anything she could add.

"It is a heavy burden you carry, my daughter", he murmured then, cradling her fingers between his own.

"Perhaps it is", she allowed, "but I took it and I will bear it. That is my gift." To the Riddermark, to our world... and to him.

Father nodded solemnly.

"And you are strong enough, dearest child – what you have done proves it, at least. There is such a light in you, and it burns now brighter than I ever saw it before. Just... if you ever need anything, we will help you. Your brothers and I will always be there for you", he said in quiet tones, and she hugged him tight. Silent tears shook them both as they remained in that embrace for a long time.

When Father pulled back, he smiled through his tears.

"I am the proudest father in all the western lands."

As much as Lothíriel loved having her family close to her, their visit could not go on for ever. She never made such implications herself but she supposed they all saw how very much she and Éomer had work, and did not wish to keep them from their duties.

So, two weeks after Father and Faramir had arrived, the company of Gondorians was ready to return to their homes. Éowyn would be going as well of course – she had been far too long on the move and was anxious to return with Faramir to their own home in Ithilien.

Sending them all on their way at the same time was not easy, and on the morrow of their departure Lothíriel spent a good deal of time to hug and kiss each and every one of them. Erchirion's grave expression implied someone had died and he muttered nonsensical words into her hair when he hugged her for the last time. Even Amrothos' spirits were dampened on this day and when she thanked him for everything for the third time, he looked like he might actually cry. Father did not even try to hide his tears.

But leave they must, though it was with promises of many visits in the future, and from the terrace of the Golden Hall she watched her family leave. Éomer had wrapped both his arms around her and she leaned her head against him, trying to fight her tears.

That night when they were in bed, he asked if she was very upset still, and if there was something he could do. She managed a small smile and reached to kiss the man she loved.

"I will be all right. Just hold me close", she murmured. He did so, and the nearness of him, the knowledge she would always have him, let her find peace on that night.

It was as they had guessed and known: the return to Meduseld did not see them happily proceeding into a peaceful life. Instead, it was one that came with many concerns and long days and endless demands. Éomer was not only concerned with everyday running matters and rebuilding his land, but there was also investigating and judging all the misdeeds that had taken place during Feran's rule. Land disputes, claims of harassment and theft, even murder and treason... and then as Aragorn sent grain and livestock to help with rebuilding, distributing the goods also claimed a piece of his time. Though his Marshals and Council were working tirelessly and Lothíriel helped where she could, the fact remained Éomer was at work from sunrise until late evening.

She was busy with running the household as well, but seeing how full were her husband's hands she took charge of distributing the goods from Gondor to those who needed help to get back on their feet. If Éomer had to ride out, she'd also deal with running affairs as much as it was possible – in this, Éothain was an irreplaceable help, because he knew Éomer's policies as king better than most people, and so could advise her when she needed it. To learn more of ruling she participated in council meetings when she was able, and her place was by her king's side whenever he dealt justice to his people. As for the former captain, he participated the meetings of the royal council as enthusiastically as he had attended to the duties of the King's second in command, while his earlier position was filled by none else than Lady Ceolwen. Elfhelm was both proud that his wife was the King's Captain but also vaguely displeased because it meant she'd be quite busy for the next couple years. To Lothíriel, it made perfect sense that Ceolwen would act as the Captain of the King's Riders, even if her condition when accepting the task was she would only hold it for a couple of years, or until such time she'd discover she was with child.

As a result to all the matters of the realm, an entire day might go by without her seeing even a glimpse of her beloved. What time they had for each other was usually in the mornings or by the time he crawled into bed, already so tired that there was not much room for conversations or intimacy.

It was a difficult time, but in her heart she hoped this would pass and more peaceful times would eventually come... and give a chance for love as well.

She could see it on his face when he was remembering. This frown would appear and he'd seem older, and that haunted look she knew all too well would be there in his eyes. His form would radiate tension and instinctively Lothíriel understood it would probably have been a bad idea for anyone else to approach him. But since the beginning it had been different when it came to her. She had known from the start, instinctively perhaps, how to handle these moods, and she did not lose that skill during the days that followed their return.

And so she'd go to him and place her hand on his shoulder. She'd kiss his brow, or perhaps massage his shoulders, or just cradle his head against her chest. She'd feel his tension dissolve and he'd let out a quiet sigh that held the weight of memories. But when he'd look at her, she'd see the peace in his eyes.

"You still save me every day."

As an answer, she would just smile.

The first year was not easy. This was for many reasons that often entwined together and made it difficult for them to hold on to what small measure of peace they had been able to acquire during those months they had first spent wandering and then under the roof of Heming and Eadgyd. Now there was no more moving about, no riding forward without a destination, and no war camps and battle grounds. Instead, there was Edoras and the daily comings and goings of the capital. Yet even at home there were sometimes struggles.

And days were filled with work, from the early hours of the day to the late night. The war against Feran had left Rohan with many wounds that desperately needed healing... and when Lothíriel looked about herself, she knew there was a hurt in the very soul of the Rohirrim; that Eorlingas had fought against each other had left deep torment in the mind of the people. At first, she thought it would be insurmountable task for Éomer to heal that torment. After all, he was still battling his own demons. Yet somehow he was able to turn the turmoils of his own soul into strength to care for his people, and with strong arm he lead the course through this lingering night. Instead of vengeance, he gave them mercy and healing and peace.

Only, it did not come without a price. That price were the heightened nightmares, anxiety, arguments, melancholy. In concern Lothíriel looked at him and wondered if he was sacrificing his own healing for the sake of his people. She was often exhausted from her own duties and she was at the edge of her patience when she was left to deal with his black moods, but if there ever was doubt in her mind whispering of giving up, she reminded herself that there was no way she could surrender now, not after all the things she had already pushed through. She would endure this, too.

And perhaps that was why she would also see the light, not just the shadow. For though there were troubles and days were long and nightmares came often, one thing never changed, and that was the love they shared. Because of it, even the heaviest days had always at least one sweet moment. It was those small moments that gave Lothíriel hope that perhaps things might become more normal after a while.

It was usually the times when they were alone, with no one else around. It might be when they were in the bed, late at night or on the early morning, and world was far away. Sometimes it came when they went riding and he ordered the guards to fall behind, and it was just him and her speeding over the plains. It came after a long day of labour, and she'd sit on the arm of his chair and slip into his lap, and share a quiet moment of tenderness with him. There were instances she could lure him into some light banter that would make him smile and laugh. Gentle little touches were shared when they were close, or perhaps some small gesture of consideration and caring like brushing each other's hair, or bringing some hot tea to refresh the other in the middle of work, or massaging each others' shoulders after a long day. Tenderness softened the sharp edges and cleared away the distracting things, allowing them to see those things that mattered... and that even on the more difficult moments their light never went out.

Perhaps in time those small moments would grow into larger ones, and shadows would diminish... and they could live in peace and happiness.

On the summer of the first year of the Fourth Age, a daughter was born to Aragorn and Arwen. The letters he sent to his fellow king were positively gleeful as could only be expected from a new father. He was also planning to organise a great celebration in the honour of their newborn child some time close to the end of the year, and so invited Éomer and Lothíriel to travel to Gondor as well. She quickly realised it was more than just to celebrate the birth of the little princess, though; the occasion was also to get together old friends to reminiscence the achievements of past few years. And from his letters she gathered he was hoping a break from the concerns of kingship would do Éomer good. Aragorn was always subtle about it, but he worried for his dear friend just like she did.

Though Lothíriel saw Éomer truly wanted to go, he was also reluctant to leave the realm when there was so much work he would have to postpone. However, with the help of couple of persuasive Marshals and a certain Shieldmaiden, the Queen was able to convince him it would be a good idea to travel to Gondor. Not only could he meet again his friends there, but also show the people of the southern realm that Rohan's king was very much in control again and the Mark was on the mend.

Lothíriel had her own agenda as well. She was much looking forward to spending time with her husband. She fully intended to make use of the period when the piles of reports and his council were far away.

And so they travelled to Gondor for the very first time after the southern campaign and the return to the Mark. Most of the journey she was rather anxious, because the last time she had been to the courts of Gondor, she had been a very different person. That first glimpse of Minas Tirith was almost unreal to her: the city looked as though she had only left yesterday! Though her own life had changed so much, the White City stood as it always had. Glancing at her king, she saw he must have been thinking something similar. Perhaps it was even more strange to him.

Into the city they rode and their arrival was witnessed by many, for apparently half the city already knew the King of Rohan was coming. Lothíriel did not know how much people of this city knew of the events of late in the northern land, but it seemed to be enough. Many were the curious, even wondering eyes that followed their passing. Of course, Éomer was a sight to behold himself, as he was riding Silfren. Mearas were not often seen in this city of stone, and his appearance was as though the northern wind had taken form to travel in this part of the world. Moreover there was something more about her king now, and though perhaps he did not seem as young as he once did, the strife of past two years had not bent his back. Instead, it was like Legolas had said: shining like a fine blade, tempered in cruel fires and all the greater for it.

The meeting of the kings in the Citadel was very formal, mostly because it was witnessed a great number of people, both noble and common. Still and all, light was glimmering in Aragorn's eyes as he approached to meet his friends and he smiled brightly; once they were inside and away from prying eyes, he cast aside all formality and hugged tight not only his fellow king but also Lothíriel.

"You are most welcome, my friends", he said, his voice revealing the depth of his joy, "I cannot tell you how good it is to see you once more."

"Likewise, brother. I have often regretted the way I took my leave of you", Éomer said and frowned, but the older man shook his head and smiled.

"Think nothing of it! I know why you had to go, and I do not blame you for it. What matters to me is knowing you have put things right and Rohan is on the mend", Aragorn said warmly. A shadow of a smile did touch Éomer's face and without a further talk, the King of Arnor and Gondor invited his friends to meet his daughter for the first time.

The first couple of days were full of meeting friends and family, and so Lothíriel and Éomer did not have a chance of making an official appearance in the Gondorian court. However, it did not come as a surprise there was a welcoming feast for them on the third night of their stay, and with slight panicky feeling Lothíriel considered this was the first time since last spring she would meet the society of her birthland. Her beloved helpfully put things back into perspective: "What do you have to fear from them?"

In the end, it seemed to her the society was more afraid of her than the other way around. For as they arrived in the feast that night and she strode by Éomer's side, she took note of many a wary face about the crowd. People had often regarded her with thinly veiled disapproval and whispered quietly behind fans, and sometimes they had just outright made clear just how scandalous they deemed her. Now it was altogether different, and she could see there a strange kind of fearful wonder. There were couple of instances she even thought Amrothos had not been so wrong when he had stated that more sensitive ladies might run at the sight of her.

"Why do they do that?" she whispered to her husband, who immediately picked up what she meant.

"It is because they are intimidated by you", said her husband softly, and she looked up at him quizzically. A slight smile softened his face when he looked at her.

"Intimidated? By me?" Lothíriel wondered out loud. He leaned down to kiss her brow – he never spared affection, not even before a crowd.

"My beloved Lioness. When they look at you, they don't see the wild little princess you used to be. They see a warrior queen, a lady of a fell people", he told her gently.

"Oh", was all she could really respond, and she frowned to herself. She hadn't really realised that before now.

His expression turned sober.

"You don't seem to realise or even remember that it was a remarkable thing what you did. You fought a war and you won."

As she considered his words, she knew his statement was true in more than just one way.

A good deal of the Gondorian nobility was perhaps intimidated indeed, but there were some whose curiosity would not be dampened. And so, as soon as a moment of free socialising came and Éomer left her side for a moment, several young ladies cornered her. At first Lothíriel felt defensive and expected thinly veiled insults, but then she noticed how their eyes radiated excitedly.

"My lady Queen", said one of them, her voice all but gushing, "we have heard so many stories about what has happened in Rohan, and we wanted to ask if any of it is true. Did you really travel south to look for the King Éomer?"

"Yes! And did you actually take part in battles against that horrible underking?" another one demanded to know. Several more questions followed, some of them referring to events so ludicrous she couldn't see how someone would believe such thing.

The young queen's first instinct was to snap and argue that it hadn't been some exciting little adventure – that she wouldn't allow anyone to turn the suffering and torment Éomer had gone through into a tale people could amuse themselves with. But then, as she looked at these young ladies who had such hopeful eyes, Lothíriel realised she could not make them understand. In fact, no one ever would, except for Éowyn and Aragorn. She could spend her life trying to fight people and tell them they knew nothing of it... but they would not see what she meant. What she and her beloved king had survived had already turned into a story – that was the fate of their journey, and always would be.

The thought had been there in her mind for a while now. Sometimes it had surfaced to the top of her mind, troubling and almost haunting her. Then it had fallen behind, often because she was too busy with all the duties of the queen and helping her husband with the challenging tasks of ruling. As such she had not spoken out loud the matter after the Kin-strife had ended... though that was not to say she and Éomer had been careful when they were intimate. There had just been a silent agreement the right time had come.

When she held in her arms the little daughter of Arwen and Aragorn, she was fully aware of what had been worrying her, and looking into the babe's eyes she knew this would not leave her again; holding the child, meeting that sleepy and trustful gaze, Lothíriel dared to imagine this was her own daughter.

And then a hand fell on her shoulder and she looked up, quickly hiding her thoughts behind a smile. There beside her stood Éomer, watching her and the tiny princess with a kind of warmth and tenderness she had never seen before.

"What is it?" she managed to ask. Somehow her voice was steady and calm.

"The way you looked at her just now... I could not help but imagine she was ours", he murmured softly. His words nearly had her heart bursting.

Then suddenly he lowered himself down on one knee so that he could see her face fully. The expression on his face then... it was so open, so genuine, so hopeful. It nearly made her cry.

"You work so much, beloved. And I know how much you worry for me. I promise I will try to be a better husband to you, give you more time. Whatever scars there remain... they will heal. I promise", he told her, his voice low and so full, and now she couldn't hold back her tears anymore. Éomer reached to kiss her... and when he was still close and rested his hand on the side of her neck, he spoke once more, "When our children come, they will hear me roar."

Though Lothíriel was happy for Aragorn and Arwen, their joy for the birth of their first child had given a more permanent shape to her concern – it only increased when first Éowyn and Faramir announced they were expecting, and then Ceolwen and Elfhelm shared the same tidings with them. Almost a year now she and her own husband had not exercised any particular carefulness when being together: the realm was anxiously waiting for the arrival of an heir. But it was also something they both needed. However, as months passed, nothing would indicate she might be with child. The midwife of Edoras confirmed what Eadgyd had already told her, and so she had a healer preparing her those potions the elderly woman had also spoken of. Still her womb remained empty.

And then she would see her husband watching Éothain when he was in the middle of his children, or Elfhelm blissfully gazing at Ceolwen growing large with their babe, and the young queen would see the envy and longing in her husband's eyes. Seeing how he yearned for a son or daughter of his and her own made her feel like choking – she wanted to give him that joy so badly it hurt.

But being the King and Queen of the Mark meant it was not just their own wish for family that mattered. People were increasingly eager to hear the official announcement, and the months of Éomer's absence and alleged death had left the realm desperate for the continuation of Eorl's line. Grudgingly Éothain reported the mutterings behind their backs: though no one denied what Lothíriel Queen had done for the Riddermark, perhaps Éomer King should still divorce her if she could not give him children.

When he heard that, his anger was something to witness; entire Meduseld heard his opinion on the matter. Éothain delivered them no more news of gossip.

The Valar only knew where this all might have gone, hadn't Legolas arrived in Edoras at this very time, almost two years since the end of the Kin-strife. He did not need keen Elven perception to learn what was going on in the land, and suspiciously he left the capital only a couple of days after his arrival. Lothíriel assumed he just continued his journey to Aglarond to visit Gimli, but then two and a half weeks later he returned, and with him he brought an invitation from the Lord Celeborn of Lothlórien to the King and Queen of the Riddermark.

It did not take much consideration for the royal couple to make their decision. At this point they were both open to anything that might change the agonising situation, and as soon as they were able, they left for a long road towards the land of Lórien where Lord Celeborn still lingered after Lady Galadriel had sailed beyond the sea and into the West.

As for the Mark, things had been calm and peaceful ever since the Kin-strife had ended, and the King and Queen knew they could count on the vigilance of Elfhelm, Ceolwen and Erkenbrand – though Elfhelm laughingly commented this time, any ilk of Feran would run as fast as they could rather than try to usurp power, but mostly because of his lady wife. Erkenbrand agreed, because "Shieldmaidens traditionally have no tolerance for nonsense – just ask the Witch-king of Angmar".

His spirits considerably lifted by the hope of a remedy in Lórien, Éomer remarked, "I believe it is also because there is this Lioness of a woman living in these lands, and people don't want to challenge her into a punching match."

In the end, the visit to the Golden Wood proved to be an answer to two different concerns, and for the first time since he had ridden south Lothíriel could see her husband completely unburdened of his many cares and the shadow that had nearly claimed his life. It was as though many years had fallen from his shoulders, and in the shade of great mellyrn he walked like he had no memory of any grief of his life; for a while, it felt as though the light-filled time of their courtship and betrothal was renewed. The month they spent there as guests of Lord Celeborn was a time of rest and healing for them both, and afterwards Éomer was more at peace... and there, under the golden leaves in the Elven land where some blessing of Lady Galadriel still lingered, was conceived their son and heir for the Riddermark.

When he was born, they called him Elfwine... Elf-friend.

The birth of their son was something they both needed, but like so many things it did not come as easily as they might have hoped.

Though realising she was with child was a great joy for them both, Lothíriel soon became concerned for all the things that could go wrong. Surely it would not be an easy pregnancy, after seeing how difficult it was for her to conceive? And Eadgyd's words would haunt her, feeding the fear that she would not be able to bring her baby into the world. The idea that she might lose the child was terrifying. So it was for many reasons, and the pain it would cause to Éomer was not the least. Perhaps such misfortune would even undo all his healing until now, and that alternative would come to haunt her during the long hours of the night.

That was one of the times she forgot she could count on him to support her just as much as she supported him, and it was by his bidding that Queen Arwen arrived in Rohan to visit her. What Elrond's daughter told Lothíriel gave her the peace of mind she needed.

"The child you bear was conceived under the golden leaves of Lórien. Though Galadriel my grandmother has gone to the West beyond the Sea, her power dwelt in that wood for a long time, and long it will be before the memory of her might will depart", said Arwen gently, reaching for the other queen's hands. "Fear for not your babe. He'll be strong and healthy, and so will you be as well."

After that visit, she slept tight and restful, and though the childbirth was not easy, both herself and her baby pulled through it. So came into the world the son of Éomer and Lothíriel, the one men would in later days call Elfwine the Fair.

When he grew, he came to resemble quite strikingly his maternal grandfather. The conditions of his birth were known of: at the time, the Queen's infertility had been a national concern. But then after the visit to the Golden Wood she began to grow large with child, some mutterings were inevitable. Some whispered it was an Elven babe, conceived with the help of witchcraft... and that Elfwine inherited the dark hair and features of Westernesse instead of bright golden hair was supposedly proof.

However, one unchangeable fact remained: one only needed to look Elfwine in his eyes and hear him speak to know whose son he was.

Lothíriel had thought she might not be able to bear more children – that Elfwine had been the last blessing of the fading Elves of Lórien. She knew her husband had thought the same. Neither of them expected the royal nursery to see more infants than their first-born son.

But perhaps Elfwine's birth had changed something... or maybe the time of healing in the Golden Wood was more profound than they had even thought possible. Either way, before their son's second birthday she began to suspect she was with child again. And when the midwife of Edoras confirmed this was indeed so, there were no boundaries to the joy of the royal couple.

In the tumultuous time that had preceded their marriage, thoughts of raising a family had been sparse. Of course, as soon as the relationship between Lothíriel and Éomer had become physical, there had been the mutual agreement they should try to be as careful as they could. Children born out of wedlock was not something either of them wanted. But with this in mind, to her at least it had been obvious that one day, when they would be safely married and living in some place other than the road, she would bear his children.

And thus it was: after giving the Mark the much-needed heir she carried two more children under her heart, and there was life and great joy in the Golden Hall of the King.

In her early youth, Lothíriel had never thought she'd love any man enough to want to marry him. Though it could be said she had fire in her spirit and passion that went with hot temper, she didn't really comprehend the idea of intense love... but eventually she came to realise that comprehension depended on feeling like she and what moved in her heart were accepted. In Éomer's eyes she was wholly welcomed in all her perfection and imperfection, and with acceptance came love.

And like all tremendous emotions, her love for him was overwhelming and passionate and perhaps slightly mad.

Even the wise can't tell all paths, and Lothíriel never claimed to be one of them; she did not know where that road they had chosen on a summer night in Ithilien might have taken them had fate not interfered. Would it have burned itself, and the two of them, in the process? That question was irrelevant however, for the south and despair and hope and having nothing else to trust in than each other had touched that passion... and so it grew strong and deep and enduring; this love of theirs was transformed into a bond beyond fleeting mortal sensations, beyond grief or joy or sorrow or happiness, and finally into something that was larger than life.

Of what he felt for his Lioness Éomer could never truly explain in words. Much of it was too tremendous for him to speak of, except with those closest to him. For the story of how he was lost, and how she found him again went too deep, and there was always the memory of good men who had died for him, of a nightmare in the deserts, and all the lives that had perished in following events. In time, he learned to forgive himself and forget. For how could he live in misery and unhappiness when he lived to see so many good and fair things?

The fact remained: he adored her, and her hands had pulled him through the darkest period of his life. She was the reason he lived – and by her dauntless will and enduring love, he had been saved in every way that a person can be saved.

The years did their work. Or, not really the years, but that which they brought. And life was what came with time, along with peace and prosperity. Though there were still wars left to fight and occasionally Éomer had to ride with Silfren to battles, in the Riddermark a new age had began. This was a time of which many songs and tales would be given to the later years: in Meduseld ruled a king who rode a stallion of mearas and by his side stood a woman whose courage had earned her the name of Lioness. Éomer had been called the Blessed when he had returned from the south and began the struggle to throw down the usurper, but it was the years after which showed how well-given his epithet was.

Prosperity was dearly bought with long labours of both the King and the Queen, and also of their friends, but if their years saw much working, it paled in comparison to light and love of their life, and their wish for family was fulfilled with their three children. In their laughter and untroubled happiness past sufferings paled and grew small; there were sounds of little feet running, tiny arms reaching for an embrace, teaching and loving and caring, and waking up to finding that one or two children had crawled into their parents' bed in the middle of the night.

Sometimes, Lothíriel would look at Éomer when he was with their children. He'd teach them to carve wood and ride and sing and wield swords. He'd chase them around the Hall, carry them on his shoulders, tell them stories of battles and orcs and dragons. Sometimes she'd find him buried under all three on the floor of their chambers, and he'd be laughing from the bottom of his heart. On those moments it looked like the gold in his hair shined in its own light and swallowed the grey, he'd wear the face of a young man, and she'd know he was completely free.

"They will hear me roar", he had promised to her... and truly, the children never saw anything less than a lion when they looked at their father.

Even in the middle of these years of life Lothíriel sensed one more thing needed to be done before the past could be buried for good. Peace, a final and permanent one, needed to be made, and looking at her husband she deemed he had healed enough to do so. And so, one day of spring ten years after the Kin-Strife, the King and Queen of the Mark rode out from Edoras. Their destination was south.

Through the Dimholt they passed and rode to Dol Amroth – the children would stay awhile with their grandfather and cousins and probably cause so much mischief that by the time Éomer and Lothíriel returned, Father would be begging them to take the little rascals away. She hugged and kissed them for a long while upon her departure, but Elfwine was sulking – he would so have liked to come along.

From the city by the sea a ship took them to the mouth of river Harnen. It was a bright new morning of spring when they arrived and sunlight glittered on the waters of the river; when Lothíriel joined her horselord in the brow, she saw the shore where they had once waited for the ship of a smuggler. The place had not changed at all during the years, and the sight brought her an overwhelming feeling of being taken back in time.

Éomer stood quiet. His jaw was set and his eyes clouded as he regarded the sight before them. Gently she picked up his hand in hers.

"We do not need to go farther than this, if you don't want to", she said softly. Her words made him look at her sharply, but soon as his eyes set on her, a gentler expression came into them.

"We have come this far. I will not turn back now", he said steadily. The corner of his mouth lifted briefly, "We need to do this, my love. The past has to be buried."

She did not say anything more then. She gave him a smile and stayed by his side.

Landing took some time, as getting their horses on the beach was tricky. It was by afternoon that the King and Queen and the royal guard, led by Captain Edelric, were finally on the move.

Though years had passed, Lothíriel had not forgotten the journey she had made through these lands with her beloved and friends. In some ways it was the same and in others different, because Aragorn and Éowyn were not with them and instead of a dromedary called Stinker she was riding her half mearh steed – a mare sired by Silfren himself. She was hoping they might meet some familiar faces, though. Seeing they had come all this way, it did not make sense not to try and meet Chieftain Varanat and Chieftainess Fanara, if it was possible. They had sent messages before departing Dol Amroth and perhaps soon answers would come. To Éomer, it would be a part of burying the past. But to her, it was to remember.

Having consulted maps in Dol Amroth and speaking with Amrothos, they knew where to head. It was not a long way from the banks of the river, though during their passage from the tribeslands they had avoided the place – back then, Aragorn had been right to suggest they should not seek the pass through the hills.

Then at last, when afternoon was growing late and the sun was westering, Lothíriel beheld the place where her journey had in many ways begun. For though she had never been here herself, she knew this was the place it all had started.

The valley was quiet and empty, bearing no signs of what had happened there so many years ago. Dust swirled in a sudden gust of wind but otherwise the scene before her was as desolate as it could be. One might have thought the spirits of dead men would haunt it, but if it was indeed so she couldn't say.

She turned to look at her husband and saw him staring at the valley in silence. His mouth was a thin line and his brow was furrowed as he regarded the place... she knew he was remembering that day now, perhaps almost seeing the scene before his very eyes. She could imagine it as well: the shouts and screams of dying men and horses, the clash of steel, the bodies on the ground... and him standing as the last man while the tribesmen in the guises of pirates circled him...

Éomer let out a wavering breath.

"Let us continue", he said at last in a quiet, tight voice. It was not easy, but she knew he could do it. He had healed.

Up on a hill it was, just as Amrothos had described, and surrounded by the tall spears the King's Riders had once carried with them. Éomer did not need to tell Edelric and the guard to stay behind – his captain knew to stand back and let the King and Queen pass the remaining distance alone. In silence the two climbed, leading their horses. Both animals were very quiet as though they too knew the meaning of this moment. Sand and stone slipped under Lothíriel's boots, but she took support of her mare. At last they reached the hilltop and the place she had only heard of from Aragorn and Amrothos.

The tomb of King's Riders had remained undisturbed. There it stood on the hilltop, against the heat and wind of the south, and gazed towards the river Harnen. Lothíriel let out a deep breath and felt kind of a fearful reverence for this place... and suddenly there was a choking feeling on her as she remembered their faces. She had seen them riding with Éomer when he had come to visit her in Dol Amroth, or when they had met in Minas Tirith. They had known him well enough to recognise how very in love with her he was, and so they had already regarded her their queen – treated her as such.

Good and brave men, all giving their lives to protect Éomer King of the Mark...

He had bowed his head and she could see the silent tears on his face. Lothíriel felt distress, for she didn't know if she should reach to him, or if she needed to let him have this moment of grief.

But then... as she glanced at the tomb, something abruptly caught her eye. There, in the middle of rocks of the cairn, glimmered tiny spots of white. In wonder she leaned down to see better, and she reached her hand to make sure if what she saw was real.

The petals were soft and white as snow on her fingers, but warm like the rays of sun. Delicate it looked, yet she knew its strength – in the Riddermark, this flower would bloom even through the winter.

Simbelmynë, alfirin... both names signifying everlasting memory.

Sharply she turned towards Éomer. He was looking at her, his face bearing the same amazement she felt.

"How?" she asked in a breathless voice.

"You tell me", he said, reaching his hand for the flower. She placed it gently on the palm of his hand, where it lingered small and fragile, before a gentle wind took hold of it and carried away the flower of remembrance. Lothíriel had never known this flower to bloom this far south, and how any would find their way here, she could not say.

Perhaps it did not matter. She had seen stranger things in her life, and maybe this was a sign that the shadows of past would vanish at last, and beyond death there was life and light enduring. These men would be well-remembered, their names recalled in songs and tales... she at least would and she knew their memory was forever preserved in the heart of her king. Past decade had come to show their sacrifice had not been for nothing: the Riddermark had healed and their people were living in peace under the rule of Éomer Éadig.

Gently she took his hand in her own. As he turned to look at her, she could see the softening in his eyes, and the shadows departed. From behind them emerged a man she recognised from a time before all this... he was making appearances increasingly often, and she hoped in time he'd stay for good.

Feeling that no words would suffice, she lifted up his hand and kissed it gently. I am here, and I will always be.

He pulled her into his embrace. There they remained for a while as the Sun travelled towards the West. Gentle wind came, blowing from the great sea... perhaps it also took the shadow with it, carrying it away and clearing the skies. For as Lothíriel looked up at the man who was more than just the love of her life, she felt inside her a light swelling, filling even the darkest corners. It had always been there, and it had endured through the days of the south, of lonesome journeys, and battles and despair. And she would make sure it would live on.

She smiled.

"Race me to the river?"

Éomer returned her smile; if there was light in her then it was also in his gaze, like a bright glimmer of stars.

"I would like that, my Lioness."

Together they rode forward, towards the river, leaving at last behind the shadows of the past. Lothíriel Queen of the Riddermark looked ahead and then glanced at Éomer, her King and husband; she had given him fortune and together they had changed their fates.

Now, at last, was a time of future.

End of Part 4

A/N: Here is a new chapter of A Light that Endures. I must admit I am getting a bit weepy here, because now only the epilogue remains, and then this story will be finished.

In this chapter you see covered almost 10 years. I wanted to give you a general idea of what their life would be like after all their struggles, and as a result it became quite a large chapter. Well, I still wanted to reunite Lothíriel with her father (and Éowyn with Faramir), and show a bit of the challenges she and Éomer would meet. I also felt that even though Éomer has healed and recovered, it would not be easy for him to return to being a king. This is in no small part because of how much he has to work to mend everything - I thought it wouldn't be realistic if they just happily carried on and were never affected by their experiences of the past year. As a result it is a challenge on his mental well-being, but he is strong enough to face the new struggles. Also I do believe the visit to Lórien would have a profound impact and boost on his peace of mind, and not only because during that time Lothíriel finally conceives and they become parents.

This chapter touches a variety of years and topics – their first visit to Minas Tirith after the Kin-strife, reunions with family members and Aragorn, their struggles with trying to have children, the visit to Lórien, the birth of the heir for the realm and then their other children. I was wondering if anyone would be interested to read about those more in detail? Because these are matters I could discuss in the side story, but I'd like to know if it would interest you, my dear readers. Otherwise I'm probably taking a break from writing, but writing scenes in the fashion of Flickers wouldn't take so much time as a full-length story, so I could totally do that if anyone is interested. I already have in mind many little scenes, some of them sweet and some even hilarious.

This is also one of those instances where I'd like to share my thoughts on the song that inspired and/or helped in creating the chapter. For this one it is "Ghosts That We Knew" by Mumford And Sons. Back when I first stated to publish ALTE on this site, I already knew at the ending there would be a chapter in which I would explore the life of Éomer and Lothíriel after their return to Rohan and taking back the land from Feran. Around the same time I had also started to listen to the band Mumford And Sons, and so I came across this song. At first listening I was deeply touched by the story it tells, but I also recognised right away it was almost exactly what things would cross Éomer's mind in this next to last chapter, and also what he would say to his beloved Lioness. So it has greatly shaped this chapter, both in its story and in its mood. Éomer's words "And when our children come, they will hear me roar" are almost a direct quote from the lyrics. I highly recommend you give this song a chance!

Thanks for reading and reviewing, and stay tuned for the epilogue!

Quote in the beginning originally by John Donne.

Inspiration for the chapter: Mumford and Sons - Ghosts That We Knew

DanaFruit - I do imagine there was some sweet loving, as shown by Flickers of Light. ;) Their life does have it challenges indeed, but luckily they are spared from pirate attacks! I know the babies were only briefly mentioned in this chapter, but I hope you liked that. :)

Wondereye - Thanks! :) Glad you liked it.

Jo - Don't worry - there will still be the epilogue!

brandibuckeye - Thank you! It was really the kind of feast they both wanted and needed.

Felion - I am pleased to hear you are crying. :D Maybe that sounds weird but as a writer I'm glad to know I have made an emotional impact on my readers.

Thalia - Thank you! :) It is also sad to be finishing this story. Lots of work and sleepless nights have gone into it, and it is quite special to me as well. I would have liked to write more about the friendship between Lothíriel, Ceolwen and Scýne, but this chapter is enormous already as it is. I had to include Elfwine of course, and I would also have loved to talk about him more. But you have to cut it somewhere!

MairaElleth - It is a culmination indeed, because they are home at last after such a long journey. It's definitely the ending of one thing, but it's also the beginning of something more, like Lothíriel deems in Flickers. Anyway I'm glad you liked it, and I hope you enjoy this second to last chapter too!

Bowmaiden - I actually prefer it as such. There is just some kind of power to the artist's lines and handling of pen.

Glad you liked the feast! It's sad to finish this indeed, but stories have to end eventually, bittersweet as that is. Maybe it could continue in the side story, though!

Talia119 - I think they both wanted to make the day as though it could have been on their wedding, if things had gone more smoothly. I didn't include crowning her because somehow it seemed to me it wouldn't be necessary - people already think of her as queen, and I have a feeling Rohirrim may be more relaxed in that matter. In their eyes if you're married to the king, you're automatically the queen - no crowning needed.

I'd say it was a little bit of both to Éothain. He was sad because he loved being the King's Captain but knew he couldn't do it anymore, but also glad for understanding he can still be useful and serve his friend and king.

Actually the bit about Lothíriel kissing Éomer outside was included in the main story - she had wandered out and he joined her, and so they missed the drinking contest inside! And yes, Elfwine's appearance is generally a joy, even if there are some mutterings about his birth. But that's how gossip sometimes works and people really don't believe it so seriously in the end, because though Elfwine resembles greatly his maternal grandfather, he is still quite obviously Éomer's son.