The rain poured across the Riddermark. Grasslands turned to oceans of confusion. The pounding rain, endless hills and cover of cloud. Travel in a downpour was impossible without losing the way a few times. Any experienced Eorlingas would know that it was fruitless. Best to take cover and weather out the storm under protection.

That was what landed him in an old forgotten house on the edge of the mountains. It was large and desolate. Not a soul resided in the expansive estate, overgrown with grasses and vines over the outer stone walls. The sharp echoes of nothing answered the clacking of their horses hooves against the stone courtyard.

"We'll make camp here for the night," Eomer declared as he put his saddle through the front door. The leather saddle bags sloshed with the excessive rainfall. It stained the stone threshold with its wet. "Edoras is too far in these conditions."

His companion shivered. Her dress was soaked through. The cloak at her back was plastered to her backside, sticking to the length of her dress skirts. Bluish color touched the center of her lips.

Her eyes were hesitant, observing the abandoned estate house around them, the luxury cracking and decayed from years of neglect. "What is this place?"

The softness of her voice still punctured the silence with a faint echo.

Eomer brushed the beaded rain off his chest plate. "Years of war have left many estates empty across the riddermark. This was once a nobles house or possibly someone of royal blood." He eyed the long shadows all around them. "Long forgotten now."

His heavy footfall echoed down halls in every corner of the house as they searched.

There was not much left. Most of the furniture was gone or broken. It was possible it was stolen in the years it laid empty. The cellar stores were depleted. Waters remained at the bottom of an ancient well, long ago mined in centuries before his people populated their lands. It was old, ancient, with waters sweet of time untouched.

The young lord was used to mess with his Eored. A place out of rain and wind was suitable enough.

The lady at his side, though, was not a shieldmaiden. She was a traveling scholar with whom his sister adored. He had never much cared for her educated ways. Mostly it was at his expense that her explanations came. Still, he was a gentlemen who knew better than to let her suffer.

Hicela trembled in the wet of her clothes. She was no longer exposed to elements, but the cover of night was cool.

Eomer ventured outside through the rain in search of firewood. The storeroom was a round building near the main house. Its door was wretched open against years of green growth.

His arms filled with logs that remained without rot, and he marched back inside.

"There is not much. We cannot waste it." He proclaimed.

She nodded, seeming in agreement. "Should we burn it where we intend to sleep?"

The suggestion was sound. A warm bed would work wonders for their bodies.

The second floor was creaky. Some boards were weak and cracked. He did not risk leading her through a maze of rotten floorboards. The door nearest was kicked in.

The master of the house once resided in that very room. A dense bed overtook the back portion of it. Though coated in decades of dust, it was clear fur blankets were still intact.

Eomer gestured her inside, earning a curious look as he latched the door close behind them.

"Preserves the heat," he explained gruffly.

It became apparent that the situation strayed from innocence. Both were capable of simple math. One room, one bed. If they were to sleep, it would have to be together.

He kept his eyes focused on his fingers. They worked with the firewood to spark life in a flame. It was a practiced skill he learned as a young child.

He cleared his throat. "You may take the bed." The growth of the fire shielded the obvious blush grown over his face. "I have slept worse places than a floor."

Hicela glanced back at the bed. Her brows flexed tightly in the center as she stared a moment longer.

Finally her lips shuddered a breath. "We really should sleep together."

Her words snapped such a surprise that he burned his fingers when he dropped a log into the young flames.

"It will warm our bodies best," she replied quickly. Her eyes stared at his hand. "We won't freeze if we share body heat."

Educated types.

He thought to say no. Her honor, after all, would not be intact if they did such a thing. A night alone was hard enough on a woman's station. Sharing a bed? It would ruin her for marriage of any kind.

Then he caught a glance of her. Her body was plastered thick with her dress. It clung to her skin. The pink of her lips and cheeks almost all purple. Her arms hugged right across her chest.

His utter respect for her would be hard pressed to remain if she caught ill and perished soon after he returned her.

He sighed. "I am at your service."

He averted his eyes as she slipped off her cloak and outer dress. She was left in a simple white slip dress that was thin, with a hem just above her ankles. Absent her socks, her bare toes were against the bare wood floors.

She wrung the lengths of her hair onto the floor. It dropped to the floor with a loud splash.

Eomer was not given intimate moments like that with women. He found himself fascinated. It irked him how needy he felt his mind pushing to observe her motions, little things she did, the way her toes flexed against the floorboards, and the way she readied herself for sleep in an old bed by shaking out the dust of every fur and dusting each edge of the bed frame.

When Eomer stood, albeit awkwardly, her eyes found his without shame.

"I tried to make it as comfortable for you as possible."

His eyes widened. "For me." He repeated.

"A princeling of Rohan deserves a better bed than this filthy thing."

He blinked. All the arguments he'd had with this lady in company of his sister, Eomer never expected her to be considerate of him at all.

"Many nights I have spent without bed or comfort." The beating of his chest faltered in strength. A piece of him- honored?- to be considered enough to be made comfortable. "A lady such as you surely deserves one better."

Her lips curled into a half grin. A piece of him thought she'd tease him. "I've slept worse places."

The fire was built up for the night. Their outermost layers laid to dry in the wave of heat of the flames. He took great care to put their socks nearest the fire and stole them away before they retired.

He presented her with heated socks. "Warm toes will make the difference."

Again, she smiled. At him.

"Thank you, my lord."

She was wrapped in a thick fur. The chattering of her teeth lessened as she climbed beneath the cover. Her bare legs showed as she pulled on the socks.

Eomer remembered himself and kept his gaze at his hands as he pulled back the blankets. The smell of must hit his nose like a breath from an age long ago.

For all the size of the kingly bed, their bodies were close. His broad shoulders took half of the space. The size of his chest did not aid it. Nor did the length of his legs that he was forced to bend to keep beneath the furs.

His lips did not betray complaint. He gave Hicela as much as space as he could.

More than once, their legs brushed against each other. She was no short woman. Her own legs were forced to curl.

Sleep struggled to come to him. He was attuned to where his body laid. How he moved. The discomfort of his pants he kept on to save her dignity.

Her eyes popped open after he adjusted himself yet again. "Just take them off, Eomer. Your fidgeting moves the whole bed."

There was a grumpiness to her voice, an exhaustion.

"My apologies, my lady."

Her eyes still stared at him through narrowed slits. "Remove them."

"I shouldn't."

"I'd like to get some sleep so either you can remove them or I will."

It astonished him to hear such brazen words from a woman who acted so refined with her reading and words and things. That moment she did not feel so strange to be near. A woman with a mind that was unafraid.

She started to rise. Panic jumped to his chest.

"I'll do it," he said quickly. "Just, allow me a moment."

He struggled beneath cover of the furs to remain covered whilst removing the last layer of protection from his naked form. It was her insistence. Not his. If she saw something that disrupted her frailty, it was not on his conscience.

It would be, still, but repeating so helped him calm.

The trousers were tossed to the floor. Hicela settled back in place. Her body was curled, almost huddled for warmth.

He frowned. Eorl, help him.

"Are you still cold?" He asked.

Her head peeked from the covers. "Yes."

His lips betrayed a sigh. "Did you not say our bodies were the source of heat we need?"

"Are you - would that- I mean, yes. That is correct."

This woman was his sisters best friend. Eorl save him if she was not brought back in perfect health. Eowyn would skewer him then assume his position as a marshal of the mark.

"Just. I'll turn on my side." He talked steady to avoid any misunderstanding. "That way you can move closer and use my body heat."

He did as he said. His back turned to the lady.

The bed shifted. The weight of her body sank just behind his backside. Faint brushes of skin tingled up and down his spine.

"You are awful shy for a horse lord."

He gritted his teeth and remained quiet.

"I never said, but thank you. For rescuing me. I assume you only bothered because of your sister." She sighed. "But I am grateful nonetheless."

Eomer remained silent. He was painfully aware of the breath in his chest. The pain in his lungs as it moved slowly. At breaths peak, his back would just brush against her body. The touch of another against his flesh was heaven. It had been years since he allowed himself the pleasure.

There came a time in the night when he awakened, suddenly aware of the room, the bed, the body next to his. She remained asleep. He could tell by the rhythm of her breath.

Something had awoke him. A sound. His mind felt primed for conflict. He laid still and listened.

The defeated sizzle of the fire hummed at the other end of the room. Only gentle patter of rain splashed against the windows.

"Eomer," the voice whimpered.

His ears perked as his eyes fully opened.

"Eomer," it said again.

The voice was from behind him. He moved slow, turning himself to look.

Hicela was known for teasing him. It was possible she planned this as a rouse out of boredom.

Her eyes were closed. Face buried into the pillow.

Muscles twitched. Her hands clenched the furs, a large frown twisted her mouth in a way he'd never seen. Then it parted- like in silent scream.

Hicela muffled her cry against the pillow with his name on her lips.

Eomer felt cold. His skin primed and tensed in the air around them.

They had not spoke on the ride since her rescue. He was set to make it home before the storm descended. She was intact. No injuries. She never said to the opposite either.

His mind ignored what she endured.

Of course there were injuries. How often had he seen the very thing, horror and blood and the fear of not surviving, and let it slip off his back. Should such things touch his soul, he feared what would truly become of him.

Hicela survived an ambush by the skin of her teeth. She'd faced an imminent death if she hadn't slipped away and ran. But it was not soundless. Her party was slain. Their last fearful cries filled her ears as she ran for her life.

Then, she had been chased through the night. Clambering in total darkness, uncertain she'd find relief from the terror.

He'd rode out the minute her party was late, fearing the increasing attacks across their lands, the instinct of protecting Rohan was laced thick in his body; he knew of her trouble. Eowyn would be devastated if her friend was killed in their own country where they promised her safe passage and welcome.

This woman fought him on every mention of men being a necessity for women. How she lived her life proved it true - she did not need one to live as she wanted.

It broke his heart to understand what she now knew: if he hadn't come for her, her lifeblood would be spilled over the east fold.

How would this instance change her, he fretted. Would she be the same as he knew her?

He touched her shoulder. The change to her breath was instant. Her body jolted as if she was thrown out of a nightmare to an unknown place.

"What is it?" She whispered.

He swallowed. "You're trembling."

Her body relaxed back into the bed.

"Oh," she murmured. "It's just the cold."

Their bed was sweltering with both their bodies inside it.

"Perhaps," he said in great pause, "you would feel warmer if my chest was toward you."

"Oh." Her voice was lost to the eerie creaky air of the old house. "Yes. That will help."

Eomer turned. His entire body against her back. The heavenly delight of her lemongrass soap and the heavy rain smell welcomed him in place. It only made it much more difficult to control parts of his body so easily influenced.

He cleared his throat. "Is that better?"

It was the limit of his ability. Any more and he'd be rightfully slapped in the face for being so untoward.

"You could move closer," she said - to his dread and his pleasure - "and could you, or rather, would you put your arm around me?"

His brows jumped. It was not the only thing that jumped alive.

"If you're comfortable with that, my lord," she added quietly.

The pretense of her chill was wearing on his resolve. There were beads of sweat at the nape of her neck that he smelled very clearly.

But it was required of her honor that he keep up the pretense.

"I am at your service."

Her hand guided his arm across her waist and left his fingers against the damp skirts of her linen underdress. She curled her spine. It aligned with the curve of his body. Every part of hers was against his.

Eomer forced unpleasant thoughts in his head until it made no difference. The masculine thrill of a woman next to him had given him something unshakeable.

"I am - I - uh." Damn it.

"I don't mind." She hummed. As if she was in his head, already knowing what he was to say.

"You are too kind, Lady Hicela." His voice was drowned out by the wavy hair of her head as he lowered his head onto their shared pillow.

"My lord. Is it not you who is kind? Your sister convinced you to brave an impending storm to search for me, with the knowledge that was was likely too late for my life."

He shook his head. "Eowyn had retired when word reached that you had not arrived. She does not know of your tragedy. I went out on my own."

A ripple went through Hicela's body. It coursed down her spine thus down the center of his chest.

She raised to her elbow. "You?"

"Yes."

"Surely Lady Eowyn gave you some indication she wished me to be found."

"My sister would have torn down my door and forced me out, yes," he confirmed. "Had she known."

Hicelas brows knitted together.

"You are confused," he said. The words came through a clenched throat. He too raised himself higher, making sure to keep half his chest covered under cover.

"Why do it?" Her voice rang clear of disbelief. "You have no obligation to me. I am tolerated out of respect for your sister, not a favorite of acquaintanceships. That much is clear. There was nothing to gain of my retrieval. No benefit to you."

"I do not take our disagreements personal. You are a woman of your own mind, reading books and things that know more than a simple horse lord would know," he explained. "Your injury is not what I would wish for. I aim to protect your ability to live as you wish. No attack should rob you of that."

Eomer had not been aiming to flatter her. It was a mere truth.

Hicela still leaned forward and pressed a long deep kiss against his cheek. It was done before he understood it. Or how he should respond.

He was left in shock, fully prepared to have argued with her based on previous experience, while she settled back down to the bed. Her cheek raised with a small smirk.

He settled back down to the bed. Thoughts swirled and whirled around his head.

His arm resumed placement against her side.

"Good night Eomer."

It was mortifying how quick he fell asleep against her warm body. The moment his eyes shuttered, he was thrown out of his body and into a deep, deep sleep he seldom knew. The early morning's light did not cut through the flesh of his eyelids. Only when her body stirred did he come to.

The sensitive stiff piece of himself was pressed against her in an unavoidable way. And the more she squirmed, the harder it throbbed.

His cheeks were flushed hot.

"Sleep well, my lord?" Hicela asked. She remained facing opposite him. It saved his pride while he tucked away his embarrassment.

"How did you know I was awake?"

"The lack of horn worthy snoring was my first clue."

She was teasing him.

He rolled over, subtly hiding himself within the cover of the furs. "The sleep lost did not diminish your humor, Lady Hicela."

The pile of trouser pants on the floor were just within reach of his fingertips. He strained - quietly as it not alert her of his bashfulness.

"It did not keep me up," she replied, still in joy. "I rather liked the reassurance. That you hadn't fled in the night."

He snorted. Left her in the night after riding through storm to find her? "I would not do a thing to earn the wrath of my young sister. And in such a way." He clicked his tongue. "I do not fathom such futures with such violence."

He grasped a faint wrinkle of the pants. His heart beat in excitement to be taken from the naked vulnerability. For whatever reason, the woman had him nervous. Unnaturally.

She chuckled. Her body started to climb from beneath the cover of the furs. Had she noticed his erection, it did not show in her face.

The morning light was kind to her. There was a glow ring within her coppery eyes. It met his gaze with open cheer that rendered him speechless.

"So. This is what you are like," she stated.

The tone had his fingers limp. Hold of his pants went limp. They dropped to the floor.

"How do you mean?"

"You're so uptight and formal at court. Even with your sister," Hicela explained. She put a section of frayed hair behind her shoulder. "It is comforting to know you are not just a perfect, stoic soldier. That there is a piece of you still, human."

Eomer rose to his elbows. "I did not know I behaved inhuman."

She grimaced. "More like, stiff." Her legs crossed beneath her. "Not like most men. You are not vulgar or angry, nor in need to prove yourself against any other man who may claim to be bigger, stronger."

She glanced over and noticed his interest in her words. Her confidence slacked. She took interest in a frayed inlay of lace on her bodice. "It is intimidating."

"And no longer?"

Her throat went tight. "Well, it is easier. You seem human." A finger then poked at his bare bicep. "Impressive, but still human."

Eomer thought to ask what had eased her tension, but seeing as it could deflate the bubbly smile inside, he went without explanation. Though the thought remained in his head.

Hicela rose her arms high above her head, stretched the length of her torso and yawned. She was chipper. Her mouth stayed fixed in a smile. It was small, natural as her eyes danced around the room.

"Oh," she exclaimed. Her body hopped up and walked on her knees over to the foot of the bed. "The fires gone out."

Eomer slithered his pants from the floor trying to conceal himself under the distraction. He slipped inside in one swift jump. "Give me- I can do that."

"You did so last night," she said without looking back. Her fingers already set to work building a nest of kindling in the cold ashes of last nights fire. "I am not a lady of your court. There is no need to tend here. Allow me."

He slowed in the closure of his pants. It was one of those arguments that landed them in a yelling match before. He had believed they were a show of incompatibility; her mouth had things to snap back so fast. Now, the woman was a different creature. Not of idealized naivety, but of independence.

Eomer thought of her early morning observation. Eorl, help him, he wanted to keep the higher opinion of himself kept in her eyes. "My service is not offered as insult. I am not above doing things for others, and should I offer, it means that I am not bothered to."

"I understand," she said simply. Her lips pursed together.

A flow of air breathed life into the flame. It happily grew, eating and crackling through the kindling. The fire was alive. It was fed smaller twigs that had been found around the house the night prior. Their bodies cracked loudly in the fireplace.

He squatted down near her side. "Better to rough up my hands than yours." He showed his calloused palm to her. "I'll bet yours are much prettier."

She gave a long stare at his palm. Then her hand went over top of his. The heat of the fire spread through his fingers.

"I disagree." What a surprise. "It seems mine are in need of work, and yours need rest."

His hand was large compared to hers. It was tanned deep from endless days of riding in the sun.

A smile pulled at his lips for the second time.

"Do not worry, Lord Eomer. I'll still think you the perfect soldier if you rest. It is human after all."

Hicela's words lulled him to relent. He took a seat on the floor as the fire was made. The warm air pressed against his exposed chest. It brought some life back from the chill of the morning.

There was a small satchel Hicela wore when she traveled. It carried her personal items, like books. He'd seen her pull books from inside the cloth in Rohan more than once. He peered over to see just what else she carried on her person.

This time she pulled a leaf wrapping. It was a deep vibrant green. The hue was that of forest trees. None of which were safe on Rohan's lands.

Her fingers pulled back the leaf to reveal a large cracker. It was like bread baked hard, but still soft when bit. She handed it over as she nibbled off a piece of her own.

"Here. Try it. It isn't the most tasty but it'll fill your belly."

Eomer appraised it. "Where did you get it?"

"Fell in love with an elf. Got some of these on my farewell."

It was said as fact. A fact so easy from her lips. No heartbreak nor bitterness.

"Really."

He looked down at the hard bread to save the curiosity from his eyes. Nor let the wash of disappointment sink too far through.

She chuckled. "Maybe it wasn't love, but it was close. And we were close. They were an incredible part of my life as friend and lover."

What about the honesty surprised him, he was not sure. It just did. And he inhaled a small crumb of the elvish bread and it made him cough over and over.

"I do not care for this elf cracker," he said in the hopes of gaining his dignity.

Her eyes were shiny and sparkling as friends were, but the coy twist of her mouth said otherwise. "I know how you Eorlingas are. Your views on sex and women are modest. There is no shame in admission. I understand it can make many ashamed to discuss sex when they live in a repressed society."

Eomer blinked. "Sex is natural. I have no qualms."

Mostly.

Her eyes roved over his face. He shifted under their piercing stare with the burn across his cheeks getting hotter. History told him what would happen next: she'd tease him for being so repressed. Or perhaps, call him inhuman again.

The knot in the back of his throat clenched tighter, choking him completely, as he waited for her swift cut of his confidence.

Hicela then gave a small nibble of her elvish ration and gave a small hum – he'd not known a more pleasant sound, please let her do it again – as her eyes tilted upward to the room's ceiling.

"I'll bet this place was once a work of art."

The change of subject was welcome in all aspects to his inner monologue that lingered for want of her coy smile tilted in his direction. Instead he took to noticing what caught her eye around the room.

The rotten walls, thick air of dust and age, sharp groans of wood against the wind, desolate quiet were not twinged with beauty. Not as he thought of it.

He again chose silence.

"Do you not see it?"

Her eyes shimmered in a wide-eyed gaze that left his lips a little looser, if only to keep her attention a while longer.

How his veins flooded, primed and trembling.

"I am no judge of beauty," Eomer admitted honestly. His heart was anything but calm as he forced his tone to be. "What would a horse lord know of art?" The attention of her stare had his body primed in unreasonable tension. "I trust a lady of your education to know of fine art than I."

A snort exited her nose. "Right. A prince of Rohan, soon to be king, does not know of art over a miner's less favored daughter." She shook her head. The bit of leaf wrapping folded back over the pale thin bread and was placed back in her satchel.

Eomer blinked. "I did- forgive me." He cleared his throat, searching for more time to word his feelings. "I assumed you were high born. Seldom can commoners afford to travel as you do."

"Well, I'm not," she replied.

"But you know how to read," he countered. Only the special select few in Rohan knew how to read or write. It was not a skill come by naturally in a horse lord's world. They depicted their horses in image, not name.

Hicela dusted the length of her shift dress. "I can assure you, Lord Eomer, I am but a lowly woman."

Lowly woman was not fair measure of the woman before him. He'd addressed her as lady at court because of her presence. She never gave indication that she was beneath him, nor any man. Hicela openly disagreed with people whether they were noble or common folk. Her tongue was no less sharp toward him despite his court title.

No, Hicela was not lowly.

"Now that," he grumbled from deep in his chest, "is not a truth. The circumstance of your birth may not be that of entitlement, but you deserve it now. You are well traveled, smart, have had many lovers. What man would not find that worthy of recognition?"

She sniffed. Her eyes fixed at the open expanse of her palms. "I think you'll find there many men who do not find it appealing. In fact, it is distasteful."

Eomer recoiled and shook his head. "How could that be?"

A slight coloring came to her cheeks. The fire at her back was grown into its body now. Heat wafted through the air. The room warmed, as it did in the morning sunlight. It was at once that Eomer realized they should depart. In fact, he should have packed them up and rode out an hour ago.

Time in her presence rendered his mind lost in the wiles of a different breed. Intimate moments with a woman without assumption left him fascinated.

Part of his heart fluttered in reminder that he'd felt special at her consideration. He was not one to be pampered or tended with great love and care. The people of Rohan saw him as strong, dependable, rugged, and withstanding. There was not thought to whether his blankets were covered in dust or if he needed a break. Eomer was the one who they knew would survive no matter the condition.

Hicela gave him a strange warm feeling in the chest. It spread across his body the longer he was near her.

He grumbled as he rose to standing. "We should make for Edoras. My sister will be out in the Kingstead waiting to spear me for making her worry for so long."

His two hands offered to the lady at his feet. The soft touch against his palms filled his belly with soft excitement as the weight of her body pulled through his muscles.

"You are too kind, my lord."

Eomer made the ready. He replaced each plate of his gear until he returned to his former glory. He doused the fire. Firefoot was fetched from his grazing ground and saddled with all they brought. A well oiled saddle made the difference against the conditions. Rain waters had drained off the leather without imparting their damage onto the gear.

He returned to the stone courtyard with a small resistance. His pace slowed so that Firefoot eagerly pulled him ahead to keep up.

The unspeakable, strange dread in his body was unknown. He felt conflicted, confused. The rescue was successful. The rest of her traveling party was lost before it was known there was trouble; he had no guilt over not rescuing more. Eowyn's best friend was saved from being slaughtered on friendly lands. There was no resentment that could come from any, but Eomer still felt himself reluctant to leave this haven.

His eyes scanned the courtyard. The cobblestones were solid, still. Years of dirt coated their surface. His boot cleared away a section. A pattern of color emerged through. Dark and light-colored stones patterned the ground like speckles.

He squinted as he uncovered more of the design. It was appealing to the eye. Unnecessarily intricate, which made it all the more impressive.

Art.

Hicela's footsteps entered the open air of the courtyard. Her body a small puncture to the overwhelming silence that felt heavy to lift. Her shoulders were slumped inward. The downturn of her eye as she neared was not expression he was used to.

"May I escort you back to Edoras, Lady Hicela?"

Her lips slanted in a thin line. "I am not a woman of court. You need not call me lady."

"As I said, in the eyes of Rohan, you have earned such a title." He mounted the saddle on the broad back of Firefoot. It was a welcome feeling. A part of himself felt right on the back of a horse. The one place that was the same as the world changed around him. Confidence filled his chest as he aided the woman atop the saddle. Instead of placing her at his back as he had done the night previous, he placed her at the front where it was more comfortable. Her legs dangled the sides near the length of his. "You know, horse lords once had woman as warriors. Shieldmaidens. They came from nothing and became legends."

Eomer allowed himself the pleasure of smelling her hair once more. It no longer smelled of rain, but the scent remained pleasant.

However, the longer he smelled, the more he remembered the night of her curled near him, his naked body comfortable in a bed for the first time in ages, sweating and alone, and the more he found himself feeling the same sensation he did in the morning.

A blush swept across him as he tried to tame his thoughts. The wicked taste of joy at his tongue.

"My peace has been made with my standing in life," she said. Her face half-turned toward him, a coy smile twisted through. "It is the reason I take lovers when I can and learn all that I might. There is a time where my life's charm will be spent. Destitution, perhaps. But I'll have memories to keep me warm."

The smell of her hair and memory of the night still clouded in his mind, Eomer caught his mouth speaking before he realized just what exited his lips. "When there is not an inhuman prince in your bed, you mean."

Another heavenly hum left her lips with a larger smile. It splashed through the warm morning light. The white spread of teeth between lovely pink lips curled in the corner, touched now with the life of joy and heat. A night spent in his arms – he could dream, couldn't he? – had preserved that spirit he now wished would emerge to argue with him once more.

"See." She chuckled. "You are a shy horse lord." His smile lessened. "Any other man would have took it as invitation to my future in the hopes of warming me at night. Extended an offer to warm it currently."

He let out a nervous chuckle. "I'd never wish to presume, Lady Hicela."

She turned back to face the world ahead. It was clear sunny skies for miles. Blue seldom broke with the small white wisp of cloud. Moving long grasses gave applause as Firefoot walked amongst their fields. The pleasant swish of grass touched at the bottom of his stirrups.

Hicela leaned over. Her hand outstretched in want of something beyond. Eomer wrapped an arm around her instinctively to prevent her fall.

She chuckled. Her hand slowly moved his arm off her waist. Again, she leaned. The tips of her fingers brushed the tops of the grasses as it tickled their legs. The dull green tapped at her fingers like a greeting as they continued on their path.

"That is why you'd always be welcome," she hummed.

It was difficult to decipher whether she taunted him or was genuine. He struggled with the look on her face as she looked at him, until he was forced to look away by the sheer strength of his discomfort.

Hope coiled around his heart. It clenched tighter and tighter. He did not wish to know if she teased. Clarification would only kill the twisted hope grown within his chest, thus wrecking him.

The rest of the ride was done quickly. Firefoot was anxious to return home for some good feed. Eomer was just as anxious to rip himself off of Hicela's side and feel rational within his own mind. Too little was he rendered a fool to be comfortable by her confusing behavior.

At court, he could have sworn they were enemies. Her opinions of men were not positive. Observations he presented in favor of being a man and protecting a woman, a wife, were hastily dismantled with severe passion that he was sure she hated his guts.

He never allowed himself to react. Eowyn adored Hicela more than a sister. It would break his soul to hurt his sister to dislike the one person he'd seen her embrace since Theodred's passing. If there was to be a person to steal Hicela away, let them be stronger than him, because he'd fight fiercely to keep his sister whole.

Perhaps he'd fight a little on his own accord, too.

Firefoot eloped on fast winds back through the gates of Edoras up to Meduseld. He eagerly stomped his feet as they dismounted.

Eowyn was down the main steps before their return was announced. Staring off the roof again, he guessed.

The dark purple bags beneath of her eyes cut deep through her porcelain skin. Ragged tangles of her hair drifted in the wind, this way and that, as she moved without care to their building knot.

"Cella!" She breathed. Her arms wrapped around Hicela's neck and pulled her close.

Hicela smiled and leaned into the embrace. "Never to worry."

"They woke me after Eomer departed. Said your company was attacked." The eyes of his sister turned to him. Her strong gaze trembled at the sight of him. "You should have woke me."

"I-."

"Come now, Eowyn. What is the point of all that training and all those muscles if not putting them to use for our benefit?"

He was stricken with surprise when Eowyn's accusing glare simmered to one of indifference. He blinked several times to ensure it was not a spell that tricked his eyes.

"I did not want to worry you. I thought I'd fetch her fast and return before first light. The storm swept faster than I was. We had to bunker down and wait it out," Eomer explained to his sister.

There was more to be said of the night. His body knew it. Memory stirred up reminders of parted lips crying out his name. Their emergence confused him. A heat spread down his neck as he forced the thoughts away.

The subtle wink of Hicela's eye flustered him more.

"Now. If you don't mind, my horse needs tending. He deserves a good feeding after the distances he's covered."

As he grabbed Firefoot's reins, too slow for the horse who was starved, he heard their voices continue.

"Was he rough on you?" Eowyn asked. He gritted his teeth at the tone of her voice. It was not undeserved by their past interactions, fair, but all the same, it burned his pride. Too rough on a lady was not the man he was. "He's too impatient. Did he tend to your wounds? I doubt he even fed you. He forgets not everyone lives off of jerky on the Mark."

No matter how strong he wished to counter his sister true distrust of him, he remembered that he hadn't offered to feed her at all and closed his mouth.

Hicela was wrapped with Eowyn's cloak around her shoulders. She hugged it against herself with Eowyn's hand on each shoulder. The friends were in close congress. It was not meant for his ears.

Eomer gave a ragged breath life through his lips. He turned away.

He tried not to hear Hicela's reply, but it was too tempting to not find himself straining for her voice on the faint breath of wind as he walked down to the stable.

"He took great care of me, Wynnie. Rest assured, I would not be here without your brother."

A slip of a grin twisted his lips. Eomer left his eyes in favor of the horizon. Afternoon light washed across the lands of the Riddermark with a golden touch. It gave life to his homeland. Beautiful shades of gold and green and yellow and blue.

Never had he been captivated by the sight outside of Meduseld as he was in that moment. In his mind, he felt the word trample his heart.

Art.

Safe return to Edoras was worthy of celebration no matter how substantial the loss. The Eored's enjoyed the hospitality of the Golden Hall with barrels of ale and roasted game over open fire with music so loud it thrummed the ear drum at its cease.

His uncle declared it a merry time. There was drink and laughter and joy at Eomer's triumphant return.

Mugs were raised in his honor. Often.

Dancing pulsated the very foundations of Meduseld.

Slippery heat filled Eomer's veins. He felt the ale linger inside him, slowly feeding fire to warmth that he'd shoved down all day. Thoughts too constant turned to Hicela for much quality thought to have space. The party in his honor was a welcome distraction. It gave way to more pressing needs. Hunger. Thirst. Unstoppable thirst.

The thirst lured him to depths he'd not ventured. It turned on him with a poison.

Ale stole his restraint, his strength to withstand his own desires. It gave life to desires he'd denied himself for so long.

He swaggered down the corridors with the full mug still in hand. "Lady Hicela!" He called.

What suite was hers? He couldn't recall.

"Lady Hicela," he repeated, louder.

Out of nowhere, Eowyn emerged. "Brother. Brother. What are you doing?" He kept walking, staggered a side step once. "Are you drunk?"

His path was blocked by his sister's body. Her lips sloped to a drastic frown.

There was no moving her.

"Hicela!" He yelled.

A door down the corridor creaked open.

Eowyn narrowed her eyes. "Whatever has your mind, Eomer, reconsider. Do not upset her. I beg of you not to do this."

"If it isn't your loud snoring, it's your screams keeping me awake at night." A voice spoke through the dim of the corridor. Hicela bled into illumination by the light of torch sconce at the wall. The bright delight of her eyes shimmered beneath the orange firelight. "Yes, Lord Eomer? How may I be of service?"

Warm my bed. His jaw went slack. Did he say that aloud?

"You do not have to service him," Eowyn growled. "He's drunk. Please ignore what he says. He's just come to make an ass of himself."

His sister was far too cross. "What have I done to earn your scorn, my dear sister?"

Her face remained unchanged. "You never mince words. It is far too coarse for people of other lands."

Hicela leaned against the wall. The length of her hair was brushed smooth. It fell down her shoulders to her waist. Laces of her corset were cinched tight at the center of her chest. Beautiful threads grew up the bottom of the fabric like vines.

One blink brought him back to the white chemise dress he'd seen her roam in. Her bare ankles free and unbothered by tradition.

Her lips grew to a grin. Words flowed so easy from them. They spoke of lovers and feelings.

How he wished for those moments back. What he'd do to have her so comfortable with his naked body inside the same bed as her.

He swallowed back his fear.

"I'd be honored if you would allow me a dance."

Eowyn's pale brow jumped.

Hicela smirked. "Is that all you need, my lord Eomer?"

Why did she have to ask that? He was under the ale's influence. What he might say was as unpredictable as the thoughts inside his head.

A lazy smile slid on his face. His shoulders shrugged. "Well, there's one more. If you're up for it."

"He doesn't need anything. Cella, I am so sorry. Please ignore him."

His sister carefully grabbed Hicela's wrist. She pulled the lady away from him. Her eyes were a threat, should he try to follow. Eowyn carried a small dagger on her person. She thought he did not know, but he caught sight of it plenty. A dagger he'd made her as a gift for her birthday years prior.

Whatever she believed of him was false. Nothing inside him was negative toward her friend.

The fierce protection of her friend was endearing, as he saw it now, how wonderful it was to have a lady like Hicela in her life. He only wanted part of it.

"My lord?" Hicela asked.

He blinked. Something possessed him with a deep courage to embrace the strangling fascination with the woman in front of him that he forgot about being the gentleman. The shy horse lord afraid to show how much he desired a wild woman of Middle Earth.

No longer.

"You could warm my bed."

It slipped through his lips with sweet nectar. The only time he knew their devilish taste.

Hicela's smirk grew as his sister threw up her arms in total revulsion.

"What!" Eowyn's loudly echoed down the palace corridors. "Oh for Eorl's sake! Eomer! As if she'd give you the time of -."

"I'm at your service," she answered.