Chapter 17

Rohan, June the 13th, 3018

When Éomer had told her that on the third day of the chase there'd have been all sort of games and contests, Lothíriel hadn't really grasped the extent of entertainment that would have been offered.

It started shortly after breakfast, when the victorious hunting team was officially proclaimed. Their stag proving only a mere pounds lighter than the one Wilrun and her father had shot down, Éomer and Éothain ended up in the third place. Unfortunately, none of them could do anything against the humongous boar Trewyn and Godliss brought back at the end of the second day: it took five arrows - and large curved ones at that, to bring him down and according to Éomer, the animal might have just been the one he and Éothain had run into the year before. Everyone had agreed Trewyn and Godliss deserved to be crowned champions and so after a short ceremony, Éomer awarded them with a set of two fine steel swords.

After that, the crowd that had gathered broke into several smaller groups and everyone chose whichever type of entertainment suited them the most. Some were fighting related – or at least they provided the opportunity to practice some battle skills: target shooting, wrestling, stone throwing, quoits, but also weightlifting, tug of war and tightrope walking. Children played on various hopscotch's courts while among the ladies, a favourite pastime appeared to be a game called jingling, a reverse of the hoodman's blind that was also popular in Gondor's fairs. Many lads played prisoners' base and as for the elders, they seemed more into games of chance or strategy: one was Gluckhaus, a rather simple gambling game played on a grid of ten numbered squares; another was Nim, which involved setting up five lines of stones decreasing in number from five to one; the last player to remove a stone was the winner and while it seemed relatively easy at a first glance, Lothíriel realized after some observation it was trickier than it looked.

The games stretched long into the afternoon, until finally the time came for the most anticipated event of the whole day: horseraces of course! For some reason, Lothíriel had expected Éomer to take part but instead, he explained he rarely did. Someone just as worthy of her support was though, and that was Runhild: "Don't worry, crushing my opponents will be a child's game!", she declared as she climbed nimbly onto Shadow's saddle. Lothíriel wished her good luck and determined not lose a single moment of the races, she headed up the hill and joined Wilrun, Ides, Eofor and Dúnor who were waiting for her by the forest's edge.

With twenty-seven people taking part to the competition, the tournament consisted of nine qualifying races and three semi-finals. The three riders to emerge winners were then to face each other on a different racetrack, partially overlapping with the previous one but remarkably more difficult. It started with a long straightway, after which it briefly cut into the woods to then remerge with an alternation of sharp turns and obstacles. The last stretch was perhaps the easiest one and lead to the finishing line, which had been set just about a hundred feet below them.

Looking at the participants, Lothíriel realized there were quite a few women joining the competition. Two of the lads who worked at the stables were there too - one of them being the fool who had dared crossing Runhild and remedied a broken nose in return; as per Éomer's riders, the only known face she spotted was Háca's one: atop his beautiful chestnut stallion, he looked just as cocky as Runhild – but way less likeable too!

The qualifying races unfolded quickly and judging by everyone's reaction, with rather predictable outcomes.

The first semi-finial saw Runhild racing against her stable sworn enemy and Balláf's wife - Saewell was her name: the woman had a scar running across her cheek, from the corner of her eye down to her mouth and yet – or perhaps because of it, she possessed such an imperfect, fierce beauty that Lothíriel found it hard to take her eyes off her. When the race started, it took only a few turns to realize that was going to be a two riders battle: after an early wrong turn, the stable boy found himself lagging behind and effectively out of the game. Saewell on the other hand put up quite the fight and by the time Runhild rode by the finishing line, there were perhaps less than ten feet to separate them.

The second semi-final was a men's only affair between two of Éomer's riders and a fellow Lothíriel had never seen before. He was tall and gangly, with an aquiline nose and already greying hair in spite of his relatively young age. He looked rather inoffensive but as it turned out, appearances can be deceiving. Two turns in, he was already firmly in the lead and by the time he rode by the halfway marker, the race was practically over. "Who's that?", she asked.

"His name is Haleth", explained Eofor: "He lives at the Hornburg and happened to be in town when we all left to come up here. I've heard his family owns almost as many purebreds as the King himself. I don't know if that's true, but he definitely knows how to ride".

In the third and last semi-final, Háca faced a young lad and a girl who Lothíriel recognized as one of Almód's assistants. Needless to say, she would have liked anybody but mister pretty face to win but alas, Háca did manage to cross the finishing line well ahead of his opponents, earning himself the last vacant spot in the final race.

After a short pause that allowed the participants to catch their breath while the racetrack was adjusted to the final layout, Runhild, Haleth and Háca took their places on the starting line. There was a palpable excitement in the air and sure enough, many were already placing bets on who would win the race. As far as Lothíriel could tell, the odds were stacked against Runhild and Háca and in favour of Haleth, which she thought bizarre given the man was a stranger who didn't even live in town. Searching inside her pocket, she fished out five copper coins: it wasn't much, but still better than nothing! She approached one of the bookies and placed the money in his hand: "On Runhild", she told him.

The man gave her a sceptical look: "It's nice of you to support your maid, but I would advise you to reconsider your bet. Runhild rides like the wind, but there's no way she can win against Haleth".

"You're not giving her enough credit!", scoffed Lothíriel.

Wilrun joined her and placed two more coins in the bookie's hand: "I agree with Lady Lothíriel. My money on Runhild too!". And with Ides and Eofor, the amount of their collective bet rose to a very respectable fifteen coppers.

"That's not fair, I have no coins to bet!", complained Dúnor.

"How about we say we betted together?".

"But I wanted to bet on Haleth, not on Runhild!".

"No bet for you then!", snorted Lothíriel amidst the laughter of the others and when the race finally kicked off, she realized she was as nervous and tense as if she had to race herself. Runhild immediately grasped the first place and managed to gain some ground on Háca, but she just couldn't shake Haleth off her back. Lothíriel held her breath when she saw them vanishing into the forest, then gasped as they re-emerged with the man in the lead: "What did I tell you?", cried Dúnor.

"It's not over yet!", she rebutted him.

As they rode through the most difficult part of the track, the distance between them shrunk with her friend coming closer and closer to her opponent: "If she doesn't overtake him over the course of the next three curves, it will be over", warned them Eofor.

Runhild seemed to know it too for she tried passing on the inside of the next turn, but Haleth was fast and easily blocked her way. Choosing to bide her time, she kept at a hair's distance and when the last curve that preceded the final stretch approached, she went all in with a manoeuvre that was as impressive as it was reckless: she entered the curve at a far greater speed than Haleth, then steered her horse so suddenly that for a moment, Shadow's horseshoes seemed to slid over the ground. Left with little choice but either being pushed off the track or hold back his horse, Haleth opted for the latter and Runhild seized her chance to fly away towards the finishing line. She was halfway there when the man started gaining on her and for a moment, Lothíriel feared he'd catch her. Those around her must have had the same thought for the whole place fell totally silent, only to erupt in a deafening roar once Runhild passed the finishing line in the lead.

Lothíriel hugged Wilrun, then rushed down towards her friend: "You did it!".

Runhild stood in the stirrups with her fists raised in the air: "Of course I did!".

Walking his horse in hand, Haleth approached her with an amused grin: "It's been quite some time since someone managed to trick me so. My congratulations, Runhild".

"Thank you, Haleth. You surely are a worthy opponent, unlike that other fellow who was supposed to race with us: has anyone seen him, by any chance?", asked Runhild, making a great scene of scanning the racetrack in search of Háca, who was probably busy looking for his crushed ego. He reappeared shortly after she had received her prize – a racing saddle that had everyone stare in awe, and much to Lothíriel's dismay, she found them haggling for it: "Surely you don't mean to sell it?!", she asked horrified.

"Why wouldn't I?".

"Why? Because you've just won it!".

"Prizes are never suited for women", Runhild drily commented. "Did you see the swords Éomer gave Trewyn and Godliss? Fancy looking to be sure, but too heavy to be wielded by any shieldmaiden. A blade can at least be hanged on a rack, but a saddle? No, I'd rather sell it for a hefty price and use the money to buy me something that suits me better".

Lothíriel still found it a little cynical of Runhild to sell her prize moments after winning it, but she also realized she was the last person who could afford judging her decision: her entire life, she had only needed to ask to have all her wishes immediately fulfilled; but she knew that for most of people, life tended to be a much more complicated affair. She waited until Runhild and Háca had reached an agreement – or better said until Runhild had completely cleaned him out, then dragged her friend towards the lake: games and horseraces had been entertaining to be sure, but as a true Amrothian she had been looking forward to a good swim!

The women gathered on the northern shores of the lake, while the men moved towards the southern ones. In between was a reed that was supposed to give the ladies some sort of privacy but in all honesty, it achieved almost nothing at all. Lothíriel felt like she should have been appalled by such promiscuous setting, but everybody was so casual about it that she simply followed suit and quickly undressed. Left with nothing but a simple chemise and a pair of knee-length light pants, she took a deep breath and jumped straight into the water. When she re-emerged, there was a big smile on her face: it had been so long since the last time she had gone for a swim, that she had forgotten how much she had always liked it! She swam along the shoreline for a couple of times just to ensure she hadn't forgotten any of Erchirion's teachings and then, she headed away from the pebbled shore: "Don't go too far!", she heard Runhild saying, but she just ignored her.

"Quite the mermaid indeed", said Éothain with a grin.

Éomer followed his gaze and spotted Lothíriel advancing effortlessly in the water: she had almost reached the middle of the lake and careless of Runhild's concerns, she just kept swimming further and further away.

"Lothíriel!", shrieked the girl, throwing her arms in the air.

"I shall better go before she pulls her out of the water by her hair", chuckled Éomer. He swam around the reed and when Lothíriel saw him approaching, he raised a hand: "I come in peace, just making sure your maid doesn't get a heart attack".

"For someone so reckless, she can be quite overpr…", Lothíriel tried to say before being abruptly interrupted by her friend screaming his name at the top of her lungs. Éomer turned around and did his best not to laugh at the girl's despair: "I'm right here, Runhild. Nothing bad will happen!", he shouted but when he turned around, Lothíriel had… disappeared? He looked left and right, confused; and when something grabbed him by his feet, he yelled and almost jumped out of the water: "What the…". He took a deep a breath and dove below the water's surface just in time to see Lothíriel swimming swiftly out of his reach, a mischievous smile on her slightly tanned face.

Oh, I can play this game!, thought Éomer. But as if determined to prove just how appropriate Éothain's appellative of mermaid had been, Lothíriel sprinted ahead and reached the other side of the lake well ahead of him: "You should have seen your face!", she laughed breathlessly.

"You don't think it over just because you've touched land, do you?", asked Éomer advancing menacingly towards her.

Lothíriel's expression changed. She glanced quickly at him before trying to escape out of the water, but it was too late: he circled her waist and was just about to toss her back into the lake, when Dúnor decided to demonstrate what for an awful timing he possessed. "Lothíriel?", he called, putting one single toe in the water as if afraid he might get swept away.

"There you are! I was starting to think you'd have deserted our first swimming lesson", said Lothíriel wriggling out of his grip; and it didn't escape him the adorable flush on her cheeks!

She took Dúnor's hand and guided him a few feet into the lake: "Here is a good place to start, no need to go any deeper. Now, the first thing you need to learn is how to float on your back". She kneeled behind him and rested his head on her shoulder: "I'll always be here, no reason to be afraid", she told him with a reassuring smile.

Remembering how concerned she had been about meeting Dúnor for the first time, Éomer couldn't help but smiling. For the past three weeks those two had been inseparable and in all honesty, he could not say who had helped the other the most. It was as if through each other's miraculous escape, both Lothíriel and Dúnor had managed to make peace with what had happened that fateful day. The road ahead of them was still long but in his heart, Éomer already cherished their unlikely friendship as a precious reminder of how good could overcome evil in the most unexpected, wondrous ways.

Content with simply being there with them, he sat by the shore and followed closely the swimming lesson. Just as he had expected, Lothíriel was a capable, patient teacher: she kept encouraging Dúnor and always made sure he was comfortable with what she had just taught him before moving on to the next steps. She let him practice floating and treading water for a long while before switching to the much-anticipated front crawling. In spite of his initial fear, it didn't take long to Dúnor to master it and once he did, he got so excited about it that he seemed to have gained access to unlimited stamina and just kept paddling back and forth, over and over again: "Come, one last round to the reed and back!", he urged Lothíriel.

She laughed and followed him, but Éomer could see she was growing tired. They were less than halfway there when she suddenly halted, a look of pain on her face. Knowing right away what had happened, Éomer snapped up and made for going to her, but she stood and waved a hand to signal she was fine.

"Does your leg hurt?", asked Dúnor rushing back to her.

"A little. I guess exerted it a bit too much during these past few days".

"Well that's not good, you need to rest it! Just float on your back and I'll pull you!", he instructed her.

Much to Éomer's surprise, his tactic seemed to work and he covered easily the first half of the distance; but as the ground became more uneven and slippery, he started struggling and the inevitable happened: Lothíriel's head started spending more time under the surface of the water than above it. Dúnor didn't even notice it though and when he finally reached him, he gave him a big smile: "See, I did it!", he proudly declared before jumping out of the water and rushing towards his tent.

Éomer gave him a thumbs up and waited until he was out of earshot: "Did he almost drown you?".

Half-gasping for air and half-laughing, Lothíriel emerged from the water and crawled by his side: "Let me put it this way: if you notice a sharp decline in the water level, it's because I drunk half of it!" she said and suddenly, Éomer was reminded of three very important things.

The first one was that there was a reason why women traditionally wore dark undergarment during the chase: white ones had a tendency to become terribly transparent when wet! The second one was that even though the water of the lake was too clear to conceal anything at all, it was at least cool enough to thwart any embarrassing reaction on his side. The third and last one, was that there were plenty of people around them – namely men, who wouldn't miss the opportunity of taking a peek at his wife's grace.

The logical consequence of that line of thinking was that he adverted his eyes, dipped into the water until only his head and shoulders were exposed, then turned and shot a murderous glare at whoever he found looking at their direction. Sure enough, he spotted at least three lads staring at Lothíriel, their mouth gaping. The moment they spotted him however, he witnessed the hastiest retreat he had ever seen. He nodded and checked out a second group of men swimming in the distance. They were all giving them their back, with one notable exception: Háca, whose head was half-turned towards them - just enough to see what was going on while pretending he was busy doing something else. Éomer glared at him but the man was either too much into his wife to even notice him, or he was simply blatantly ignoring him. He was this close to sprint ahead and drown him in the lake – or at least poke his eyes into his skull, when salvation arrived on two different fronts: one was a flying branch which whirled in the air before colliding with remarkable precision against Háca's head, making Éothain cheer at his successful shot; the second one was Dúnor, who came back from his tent with a cloak to cover Lothíriel's shoulders – and hopefully not only those. When he turned, Éomer spotted his grandmother winking at him and made a mental note to thank the woman later that day.

For her part, Lothíriel looked blissfully unaware of what had just happened: "Thank you, Dúnor. It was just starting to get a bit chilly!". He gave her a quick hug and obviously still very excited, he run back to his grandparents to tell them all about his first swimming lesson.

"He did good".

"I knew he would. Besides, learning is easy at his age".

"How old were you when you learned how to swim?".

"Oh, I wouldn't know", said Lothíriel resting her chin on her knee. "I must have been three or four years old. Proper swimming however, I only learned when I was eight. Erchirion taught me: he had me practicing four times a week for a whole summer and by the end of the season, I was so tanned you wouldn't have even recognized me!".

"You did get a little brown these days…".

"I know and I've already found two new freckles on my nose", she complained.

"Why are you upset, freckles are cute!".

"That's not what Gondorian ladies think".

"Is that why they wear that ridiculous white powder on their face?".

"Éomer, do I have to teach you everything? A flawless porcelain skin is the pride of every respectable noblewoman!", she solemnly declared.

"They look like they fell into a bag of flour if you ask me…".

Lothíriel burst out laughing and Bema was it good to see her so light-hearted! After the unexpected welcome she had given him two days earlier, he hadn't managed to spend nearly as much time with her as he'd have liked; but even just to return to the camp in the evening to find her smiling and happy, was enough to boost his spirit!

"Are these scars from the snakes' bites?", asked Lothíriel, brushing a light finger on the skin behind his neck.

Éomer dipped a little deeper into the water and nodded.

"You know, the night after you told me about Fulor and his vipers I had a terrible nightmare: I was in my bed when suddenly dozens of snakes started falling on me, crawling between the linens and inside my hair… I woke up screaming and jumped straight out of bed but of course, because of my leg I fell and brought down with me the whole nightstand – jug of water included. You should have seen Eofor's face when he stormed in and found me lying on the ground, soaked wet and as pale as a sheet!".

"He never mentioned anything…".

"I asked him not to, didn't want you to think I was a nervous wreck".

"I have nightmares almost every night, Lothíriel. Does that make me a nervous wreck"?

She stared intently at him, biting on her lip as if unsure whether she could say what was on her mind: "What do you dream about?", she eventually asked.

"Things that I have seen, things that I fear I will see", he admitted and one image above all others formed in his mind: Lothíriel's lifeless body, her missing leg, a dark pool of blood rapidly expanding beneath her. He had not had that dream in weeks and he did not wish to be reminded about it. Not on such perfect, glorious day: "Elffa sent word a couple of days ago, did I tell you?", he tried changing topic.

Choosing not to press him any further, Lothíriel wrapped the cloak tighter around her shoulders and shook her head: "You did not. What does he say?".

"He seems in a good mood and is doing a great job. What I found especially interesting however, is that he made a vague mention of being greatly helped by someone in Caerdydd. Someone who might prove very valuable in the near future".

"You think he has found a successor to Fulor?", asked Lothíriel intrigued.

"It might be. But you know what the problem is…".

"Grima".

"Yes. Caerdydd lies within the borders of the East-mark and as such, it is my prerogative to appoint a new ruler. But as a trading centre, the town plays a crucial role for Edoras too and on this basis, Grima will try to overrule my decision and put one of his men in charge".

"Which is why whoever you choose, needs to be irreproachable".

"Precisely".

"Elffa knows this just as well, Éomer. For him to mention this person, it can only mean one thing: he's confident he has found the right man for the job", declared Lothíriel.

"Isn't your trust in Elffa's judgement a little unwarranted given you've never even met him?".

"Not at all: you obviously trust him, for otherwise you wouldn't have put him in charge. And what is more, I know Elffa's aunt well enough to trust anyone belonging to that family!".

"Right, right. I keep forgetting the two of you are keeping the closest correspondence I've ever seen!", laughed Éomer for indeed, for the past month and a half there had been a steady weekly – if not bi-weekly, exchange between Lothíriel and Lady Aldwyn.

"She's helping me a lot with understanding how things work at court and she also doesn't mind sharing details of her family's business".

"Such as?".

"Recently, we've been talking a lot about the mines her family owns. She'd like to increase production, but they're having troubles with draining the water out of the tunnels: an extensive section of the mines remains flooded, and that limits greatly the extraction. On the bright side, they've just introduced a new type of furnace which has improved dramatically the quality of the metal output". He gave her an amused look, to which Lothíriel shook her head and laughed: "I know, I know. Had someone told me a year ago I'd be sitting here, quibbling about tunnels and furnaces, I'd have found it very hard to believe!".

Éomer stood and looked up to the blue sky above them: "I think you're just starting to discover all the things you can do", he told her before diving into the lake. As he swam back towards the southern shore, he glanced back and realized he was smiling like a fool.

And so was she.

Perhaps it was because it was their last night at the camp, but that evening Lothíriel felt a little nostalgic.

She had dinner with her friends and after having spent the whole time listening to Runhild babbling about how imprudent she had been earlier that day – quite rich coming from her!, she decided to go looking for Cadda.

Back in Aldburg, the old man was considered a bit of a nuisance: he was a little gone in the head and spent his time trying to strike up a conversation with whoever happened to be on his way. It mattered not that one could be busy or occupied with something else, he'd still grab your arm and refuse to let go until he had told you for the thousandth time the same old trite stories. Once she met him on a particularly loquacious day – even by his standards, and hadn't it been for Éomer who came to her rescue when he did not see her coming back for supper, she'd have probably still been there. But as she had found out the day before, Cadda also had the most beautiful, touching voice she had ever heard: deep, a little raspy, so intense she felt goosebumps rise on her arms every time he'd start a new song.

As she searched for him, Lothíriel stumbled upon the tournament's vice -champion: the poor man was surrounded by a flock of overly eager women and based on what she had heard, she could only assume that the idea of marrying one of the most eligible bachelors of the whole kingdom was as enticing in Gondor as it was in Rohan. But while her brothers had always enjoyed the perks of being born into a wealthy family, Haleth looked way less amused by all the attentions his status attracted; so, after having observed him struggling with a particularly brazen suitor, Lothíriel decided it was high time someone rescued him: "Good evening, Haleth".

The man promptly seized his chance and freed himself from the clutches of the woman sitting beside him: "Good evening, my Lady", he greeted her with an impeccable bow.

"I hope you don't mind me bothering you, but I just realized we haven't been formally introduced yet".

Haleth shot her a grateful gaze and offered her his arm: "We actually have, but it's likely you don't remember".

"We've met before?".

"Yes, many years ago in Dol Amroth. I was about your age and you must have been five or six years old. Your father very solemnly introduced us, to which you frowned, declared I had funny hair, then picked up your cat and disappeared!".

"Not the nicest thing to say! I bet my father was mortified".

"He was! Which in turn, helped us closing a more favourable deal. So you see: unknowingly you already had Rohan's best interest at heart".

"That's a polite way to put it but yes, let's agree that's precisely what happened. Did you ever travel again to Dol Amroth?".

"I'm afraid not. We kept doing business with your father, but usually met him – or your eldest brother, in Minas Tirith. And recently…".

"…recently business has become harder to conduct", she finished the sentence for him.

Holding on his arm, Lothíriel led the way until they had reached the fire by which Cadda had taken place. A thick crowd had already gathered around him and when the old man's voice rose above the lonely melody of a fiddle, Lothíriel felt a shiver running down her spine: she could only barely understand what he was singing about, and yet by the end of the song she felt tears pricking her eyes. Wishing to be alone, she excused herself and wandered around for a while before settling for a quiet corner just past the last row of tents. From there she could still hear Cadda's voice, the crackling of the fire and the clamor of the camp. But also, the gentle gurgling of the water rushing down to the lake, the rustling of the wind and the call of the nocturnal birds.

Sitting on a musk-covered log, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply: the air smelled of fire and dewy underbrush and when quiet footsteps approached, she just smiled and scooted over.

"Haleth told me I'd find you here. Is everything alright?".

"Yes. I just wish we could stay here forever".

Even without looking at him, Lothíriel could hear the smile in Éomer's voice: "Me too".

They remained silent for a long while, but there was nothing awkward nor embarrassing about it. And it was in that moment that Lothíriel realized just how precious that was: with Éomer, she didn't need to find something to talk about, she didn't need any pesky small-talk to fill their time together. In fact, they could spend a whole day side by side, uttering no more than a handful of words to one another, and yet she'd still cunt that as a good time, one that would make her go to sleep with a light heart in her chest and a big smile on her face.

When at long last he spoke, Éomer's voice was barely more than a whisper. As if he himself regretted breaking the quiet of that moment: "I can't always know, Lothíriel. If you shut me out, if you don't speak to me, if you don't tell me what's worrying you: I can't always know, I can't always help".

"I know", sighed Lothíriel.

"Had I been in Aldburg when Dernda showed up, I wouldn't have handled the situation half as good as you did. This to say I am glad you were there to put him in his place, and I'm sorry you had to face his wild accusations".

"Not all of them were wild: normal married couples do share their bed", muttered Lothíriel, still not quite sure why that comment had bugged her so.

Éomer seemed surprised, as if out of all Dernda's accusations he hadn't expected that to be bothering her: "Normal married couples do many things: choosing who to marry, for instance; or getting to know your future spouse before the marriage is celebrated. You and I, we both know there was nothing normal about the way we were brought together. Which is why we should forget about what normal couples do and care only for what we like to do".

"Picnicking around creepy towers and discussing the latest mining innovations?".

"Careful now, someone might even call it wooing".

"Maybe it really is", said Lothíriel with the tiniest smile.

Éomer turned to her and extended his hand: "Don't let the expectations of others define whether we are doing good or not, Lothíriel. Being in our shoes is not easy, I know that; but this is our marriage and no one but us should have a say in it" spoke Éomer and to Lothíriel, to place her hand into his felt like the most natural, easiest thing in the world.

"You are right. And Éomer", she called him, knowing she ought to tell him at least that, "I know I'm not the best at expressing my feelings and that most of times, it's easier for me to withdraw into myself rather than speak up. But I will say this: that day in my room, you told me I needed only to say the word and you'd have escorted me back to Gondor, never to see each other again; I chose to stay and I want you to know I've never – not even for one moment, regretted my decision".

Éomer pulled her to him and in the soft kiss he pressed on her hair were so many different emotions: relief, joy, hope…

Ever since her accident, the weight of their shaky relationship had been entirely on his shoulders: he had encouraged her, supported her in more ways than she could even remember while never making her feel overwhelmed. He had gifted her with the rarest of gifts – his own time, and he had done it all with such ease and confidence that she had forgotten: forgotten about him, forgotten about all those fears and insecurities he guarded so jealously, forgotten to tell him he was not alone in that strange marriage of theirs. "I'm sorry for behaving the way I did, for allowing Dernda to get to my head. I should have known better", she told him holding tight on his hand, her head resting on his shoulder.

"Don't blame yourself. And please know that if I've haven't ridden to Lewes and run him through a sword yet, it's only because I stand by your judgment and because you've handled the situation so well, that any action on my side would not only be unnecessary, but perhaps even harmful to your reputation".

"The snooty Princess who throws a fit and demands her honour to be restored by spilling the blood of those who dared speaking against her?".

"Something like that, yes".

"There were plenty of guards in the hall that day, Éomer. Had I wanted, I could have easily had Dernda roughed up. I just didn't see the need for it: he's a lunatic and isn't worth half the fuss he created".

Éomer chuckled and rubbed his face. "I'm starting to think you are more cut out for this job than I am", he said, to which Lothíriel gave his arm a pinch: "I was being serious!".

"So was I", breathed Éomer, his voice deep and husky like she had never heard it before. He lifted her chin so he could meet her eyes, his hand slowly moving to cup her face: "You've earned everyone's respect and you've done it with your own strength: never forget that, Lothíriel".

His words lingered in the air and for a moment, Lothíriel felt as if time stood still. The noise of the camp disappeared, the glow of the distant fires faded away; it was only them, the silent forest, the occasional light of a firefly. Her heart beating fast in her chest, she leant in the warm touch of his hand and drew a shaky breath: "I will try", she promised, her voice so thin she wondered if he had heard her at all. His thumb stroke gently her cheek and when she dared opening her eyes, the way he was looking at her took the breath out of her body.

But then, just as it had inexplicably started, the spell also came to an abrupt end: Éomer's features softened, his hand slid on her shoulder and his eyes lit with the gentlest smile. "Listen Lothíriel, something I've meant to ask you: what would you say if I were to wake you up tomorrow at dawn?".

She stared at him in confusion, unsure what had just happened: "W-what for?".

"I'd like you to help me with the horses".

She exhaled and in all honesty, she could not say what feeling prevailed in that moment: stupor - and perhaps a veil of disappointment too, for what could have happened and did not happen; or disheartened embarrassment for being obviously unable to hide anything at all from Éomer's keen eye: "So you've noticed it". She tried looking away, but he did not let her: "Me being afraid of horses, I know it doesn't make any sense: if I'm alive, it's only because of Rohiril and how fast she bolted away from those wargs…".

"You being afraid of horses it's understandable", silenced her Éomer, his callous finger only barely touching her lips. "There's no reason to feel ashamed but the longer you wait to deal with it, the harder it will be to overcome. Which is why I'd like you to help me saddling Firefoot tomorrow morning: you don't need to ride, just be there with me for a while, that's all I'm asking".

"You want to help me re-building my confidence with horses by practicing with Firefoot?", she had to tease him: "Quite the shock therapy, isn't it?"

"He'll be on his best behaviour. Besides, he's not half as bad as everyone says!", declared Éomer though he himself did not seem to believe it. "So, do we have a deal?".

Lothíriel took his hand and shook it: "We do", she said with a smile.

Author's notes: I can hear you crying in disappointment for yet another missed romance opportunity! But Éomer has his own reasons – whether valid or not we shall see, to behave that way. On the bright side, Lothíriel is finally feeling some attraction for him. I know the romance is progressing very slow, but I just don't see it going any faster: Lothíriel has been through a lot and she just doesn't struck me as the type of person who'd fall madly in love from one day to the next. She's on a long journey of healing – both physically as well as mentally, and she's growing a little with every further day. In a sense, falling in love with Éomer is to her only a piece of a much bigger puzzle that she needs to solve if she wants to settle and find happiness in Rohan.

SwanKnightoftheNorth: …oops, I think I'll torture you for a little longer! :)

Guest: grammatic/language advises are always most welcome! I think I was using him because that's sort of what one uses in Italian and never realized it was wrong in English. I'll definitely try not to make the same mistake in the future!

xXMizz Alec VolturiXx: Lothíriel needs to learn to be a bit more open and sincere with Éomer, which is precisely what the last bit of this chapter was about. Wouldn't be surprised if the monster Éothain encountered was indeed nothing more than a little mouse! :)

Guest: yes, that was exactly what I was trying to convey and I'm glad it came out nicely. Sometimes no matter how hard we try to be rational, we still end up worrying for the silliest things! I had in mind to have Lothíriel talk with Éothain since a while already: he has been a thorn in the flesh in the first months of their marriage, but he has also been honest enough to admit his mistakes and support his friend during the past chapters. A fresh start with Lothíriel was totally deserved!

Guest: I'll be honest: I only recently made up my mind about those two so… we shall see!

WildBright: the story had some quite dark moments, so I thought a little comedic touch was needed! Trewyn and Godliss will definitely be a problem if Lothíriel doesn't learn how to deal with them. As it had already happened with Dernda, she allowed them to play on her own insecurities and create a problem out of thin air. This is her weakness and what she needs to learn how to deal with…

Katia0203: I think Éomer had it figured out since a while already. Lothíriel on the other hand, she's just starting now!

Swanroad: at this point of the story Éomer is not King yet and being his cousin alive, he's not the heir to throne either. A Marshall is a prestigious position to be sure, but nothing like having a crown on your head. As Lothíriel rightfully explained, Dernda is little more than a lunatic and going after him would have meant giving him more importance than he actually deserved. He behaved like a madman and the rumour of him being put in his place by a Gondorian princess, will definitely outpace any other gossip he might try to spread.