When Éomer came to Minas Tirith in a fortnight, the whole city was already buzzing with excitement. King Elessar's little heir was about to turn one and his proud parents summoned all their beloved ones to share the special day with them. Hobbits came from the distant Shire, dwarfs arrived from the Lonely Mountain and Iron Hills, elves (who were still quite numerous in Middle Earth) also came with abundant gifts and musical instruments to celebrate the occasion. The first person to meet Éomer was his sister, who was so eager to see him that met her brother outside the city gates. They were all to stay at the Great Palace, and as Faramir and Éomer frequented King Elessar's lodgings, they had their own chambers there, invariably prepared.

'I suppose you've quite forgotten to bring a present for dear Eldarion,' smiled Éowyn, as they were walking through the sunlit palace, already changed for dinner.

'You should have more faith in me, my darling,' Éomer retorted lightly. 'I brought a great wooden rocking horse for his little majesty. I'm sure he'd find it to his liking, if not today, than in the months to come.'

Éowyn was not deceived by her brother's joking tone, she saw how wan and drawn his face was and wondered if Éomer was well. But at the moment she wisely said nothing. Éomer, on his side, was pleased to see his sister blooming, her features calm and happy, her eyes shining. How glad he was finally not to be worried about her, his dearest friend's, happiness.

'I know that Aragorn plotted to bring a Haradrim princess with him.' Éomer tried to speak casually, but Éowyn noticed the tense.

'And he came with her three days ago. My king told us her story and I've already expressed to her my gratitude for saving your life, brother,' laughed Éowyn, but there was a suppressed sigh and Éomer felt how painful it was for his sister to know that he'd been on the verge of death. 'The pharadine is lovely. She is so sweet and gentle, a bit taciturn maybe. And she speaks Rohirric so well, I enjoyed her talk on the southern poetry immensely this morning. Everyone is charmed by her, and the Warden of the Houses of Healing keeps cornering her now and then, his advances are a standing joke already.'

So she was there. Éomer felt relieved and disturbed at the same time. He dreamed about seeing Lûne again, but now he was almost frightened to meet her just in several moments.

Aragorn saw them outside the Merethrond, the Great Hall of Feasts, and embraced Éomer heartily. It was a happy day for a King of Gondor, and when Éomer entered the Hall, he was deafened by laughter and was not surprised to find little Eldarion almost invisible in the uproar and decorations. From the second he entered, Éomer knew where Lûne was, though her sober dress was drowned in the rampage of colors. But he knew, knew immediately, that a thin figure next to queen Arwen was hers. Éomer wasn't sure if he was glad when Éowyn took him to the opposite side. It was only eight chairs away from the princess, but Éomer was annoyed to learn that from his place Lûne could be neither seen nor heard properly.

The feast was loud and merry. After the sunset the candles were lit and the little prince and other children were taken away, and, as Éomer noted humorously, not only because it was getting late, but also what with the hobbits after many pints of ale started trolling songs of somewhat dubious kind.

The violins were playing gaily, and everyone went dancing. Éomer never danced himself, but he enjoyed the peaceful evening, listened to the sounds of elvish music and watched his sister dancing with King Elessar, while Queen Arwen was on the arm of Prince Imrahil and Faramir danced with his cousin. Éomer saw, that Lûne stayed by the table and thought it a good moment to greet her. But when he came up, he saw that she was by no means alone. One of the hobbits was chatting excitedly and showed the princess how to fill a pipe with a tobacco. Lûne laughed, and her laughter amazed Éomer, who heard it for the first time, but he had no time to savor it. The pharadine turned her animated face to Éomer and stood up abruptly. How he missed her eyes, her face, Éomer thought. Her dark hair in a whimsical updo with a small crown in its shining masses.

Meanwhile the hobbit whisked off a plate of fresh cheese and a bottle of wine and galloped to his kin.

'Westu Éomer hal,' the princess said almost gravely, her eyes dropped. Éomer took her hand, but didn't know what else to do, so they just stood hand in hand, till her cheeks grew crimson. Then he let her go and sat silently beside Lûne. Éomer thought that his heartbeat was louder than the music, and he wondered if it was manageable to keep his heart in a chest.

'How's your Highness?' muttered the princess, still averting her gaze.

'Let us talk freely, pharadine, for we are no strangers,' Éomer was astonished to hear himself speak. 'Do you mind a dance?' He was even more surprised at this new venture.

Lûne looked up at him and smiled warmly.

'I am thankful for your kindness, Éomer King. But I am afraid you don't want to have a cripple for a partner. But we may walk for a bit, if you are too tired to sit in one place.'

The hall was getting more crowded and loud every minute, and it was only natural that they went outside and walked slowly to the Court of the Fountain. It was a warm starry night, and a White Tree was emanating a soft silver light in the darkness. Éomer watched the princess closely, but couldn't answer her questions about Rohan smoothly. His words were stuck in his throat, so bitter and so unfit for this beautiful evening. So he urged the pharadine to speak and asked if she came for long. Her gaze darkened, but her voice was clear as ever.

'Aragorn came the same day when my uncle arrived to Khûr. They were both worried and Aragorn asked me to come with him. I didn't want to go, I'd already given it a thought and was ready to stay in my homeland and see whatever my fate was.' The princess jerked her head. 'But my dear uncle cried and begged and I couldn't see him so dismal. So I agreed to come to Gondor and Aragorn vouched for my safety. I had no escort with me, for my uncle and king was much afraid that my people could already have been bribed by my brothers.'

Lûne stopped and walked slowly to the parapet. The fields were lying beneath them in the darkness.

'I'm afraid that there would be no return to Harad for me. My uncle made it clear that he wants me to find a suitable husband in the North to secure my future.' She laughed gloomily. 'As if anybody here would be happy to marry a Haradrim. Mind you, I am a princess, meaning I may be married only to a high-blooded man. So you see, my king, the prospect is quite vague.'

Éomer listened to her with a heart thumping away. The princess spoke to him unreservedly, but there was something in this frankness that suggested that she never considered him to be her future suitor... and he found it painful.

'And if there is no such man, King Elessar will have me secured in the Houses of Healing.' Her voice trembled. 'Aragorn is good and generous. But I'm afraid I am not going to find any peace or happiness here, Éomer. People are nice to me, much nicer than I expected, but I can't see anything but decades of empty years here for me. I envy you. You're a man and a king, and you're free to live for the country you love.' The pharadine sobbed. 'I didn't want to tell you all this, my king, so pardon me.'

'I also don't see anything but emptiness before me,' spoke Éomer quietly. He thought about his dream, but now it seemed utterly unreal, though the princess herself was standing so close to him, that he could feel her warmth and smell her fragrant hair.

The silence fell. Lûne looked in the vast darkness.

'So these are the Pelennor fields,' said she, obviously willing to change the subject. 'And where from you came with Théoden King that day?'

Éomer pointed at Rammas Echor, scarcely visible at the moment.

'Many people of Harad fell here,' Lûne whispered, 'But it was a good day for those who opposed the Evil from the East.'

She looked and tried to see the mountains across the valley, but the darkness that laid between Minas Tirith and Minas Ithil was dense. Éomer was quiet. For the first time in her life the princess not only knew, but truly understood that a man standing by her was a warrior, the fiercest one, who crashed his enemies mercilessly. She looked at his big hands lying on the white stone motionless and trembled. How many lives of her own kin were taken by those skillful hands.

'We'd better go back to the Hall,' said Lûne. Éomer took the pharadine's shiver for just being cold in the night wind and supported her decision eagerly.

The marble steps to the Hall were slippery, and Éomer took her elbow to help the princess. And so they came back to the feast, and more than one pair of eyes noticed them coming together.