For Author's note and Disclaimer, see chapter 1

Chapter 27

"Sister," Lothíriel turned her head to face her sister in law where they stood with their horses by the river bank. "Do you ever miss your home?"

"Often." Éowyn admitted, sensing the need for honesty in her sister by law. "I miss the open plains around Edoras, and I miss the ways of our people. Faramir has never sought to make me be what I am not, but the ways of the people are still so different I do still sometimes feel like a mockery."

"I knew I would leave the ocean behind, and I do not regret my choice," Lothíriel decided, stroking the nose of Edsel. "Your brother is a very honourable man, and I know he loves me as I love him. There is a beauty in Rohan I never knew at home, and I do not feel regret, but sometimes I do miss my home so bad it is like a pain." She turned to the golden haired woman. "I miss the ways of our people, like you said, I feel strange sometimes having so dark hair, like I could never fit in no matter what I did, and I worry sometimes if I am unfair to your brother. He has made many sacrifices himself to help me feel better at ease."

"As he should, or I would have had words with him," Éowyn snorted. "My brother is a bore sometimes, sister. He has spent far too much time in the stable with the horses, and our uncle allowed it. There are many things he would do for you, but he will never think of it himself."

"There is no need for you to be cross with him on my behalf," Lothíriel smiled softly. "I am not so petty that I do not appreciate what he does, for the few things he does not. It is true what you say, and he might if I asked him, but he does very much for me and I have no wish to sound demanding."

"That is one thing you need not fear," Éwoyn smiled, taking her hand. "For while my brother can be an ignorant dolt, he is very generous by nature and want you to know you are loved. I dare say I speak the truth that if there is anything you would wish for, he would like to know."

"I do not think it is something he would find easy to give," Lothíriel sighed softly. "I am being silly Éowyn, your people are very straightforward and honest, he would find it very hard to understand the concept of romance and flattery, but it was very common in my father's court. I grew up with my brothers and the other young men of the court always striving for it, and sometimes I miss the familiarity of it. I would not demand your brother to present me with pointless trinkets, it's not what I wish for…"

"But the way it made you feel, the knowledge that at that moment their full attention is on you," Éowyn smiled. "You're right, sister dear, my brother does not think that way, but Faramir is used to it as are you, and he has spoiled me I feel. Whenever he has been in Minas Tirith he does always have something for me, and it's easy to get used to something like it. Aye, I can see how you would miss it, and it's not something ever done in Edoras…"

"There are no sweet shops, or silver smiths," Lothíriel agreed. "And I would never demand of Éomer that he put so much effort into something so trivial, I just wish sometimes that maybe he thought to compliment me. I know he does not take me for granted, but he does not always say it."

"Would you mind if I spoke to him?" Éowyn asked. "I would not command him, for it would mean nothing then, but we have always been blunt and honest with each other, and he does often take my counsel, if he does not always admit to it. I think I could make him see that it is not a demand but would be a kind gesture just the same."

"I would not ask you to, but I would not forbid it," Lothíriel decided with a smile. "For honestly I would not mind it I think."

"Leave it to me, sister," Éowyn smiled. "He is a bit daft my brother, but he is not totally hopeless, and he can be trained…."

Lothíriel giggled at her words, and Éowyn joined her in her mirth. She and Éomer had always been close, it had only been natural after they were orphaned that they sought comfort from each other. Though their uncle took them in as their own, it was always made clear by many of the nobles that they were less than Théodred. Éomer had never seemed to mind, thought it had sometimes grated on her, and if she was to be honest, her cousin and brother had always spoiled her. she had been unfair to Éomer sometimes when they grew up. She had felt it unfair that many things she had desired had been bestowed on him instead, though she had not seen what it cost him for he had kept that from her. If she had any advice to give about how to make his wife happy, she felt he would indeed be glad to take it.

She sought her brother out later that evening. It was not unusual for the two of them to seek a few private moments with each other since they did not see each other as often anymore, and indeed her brother listened. Standing by their horses he idly braided Firefoot's mane as he listened to her, and she made clear to him that his wife did not wish to be demanding, and had not wished to complain. She simply sometimes missed an element of her home.

"I know nothing of romance such as she speaks of," he stated when she was done. "And I am well aware of it. I am not blind sister, I see how Faramir fawns over you, but if I thought to try the same I would only make a fool of myself. I am Rohan, a rider, not a fop of the court to prance about with poems and such. And I would not insult her by trying to be what I am not."

"Nor does she want you to, and it is not what I ask of you," Éowyn agreed. "My only suggestion is that you keep it in mind that sometimes we like to hear we are loved, even if we know it for truth. Your wife is not unhappy with you, not at all, but it would still mean a lot to her if you would but try."

"Aye, that is women for you," Éomer tugged playfully at Firefoot's mane. "Always wants a man to make a fool of himself to please them, then say it was not what they wanted at all. I will take your counsel, sister, for I know you love Lothíriel. And I am well aware she has made sacrifices to accept our customs, though I have not been spared of making some myself, or have you not noticed she has forced both knife and fork on me when really there was no need?"

Thinking back to their supper the night before, and how Éomer had sighed and put his dagger away when Lothíriel passed him the delicate silverware Éowyn had to laugh. To see her brother use such things away from the state dinners they had sometimes been subjected to was something she had never expected.

"Aye, I noticed, and I took from your improved skill you are no stranger to them anymore. Certainly you could find a way to do just a little more?" Éowyn teased her brother. They had both due to their statues been painstakingly trained in the art of noble manners, and both of them were fully capable of carrying themselves even in a Gondorian court. However while she had to admit that she to an extent enjoyed it, Éomer never truly had. He much preferred the simple life of the soldier and never would have concerned himself with silverware in the field if not for his wife.

"For my wife I could," Éomer decided, idly scratching Firefoot behind the ears. "But what to do, I know not, for those things are not in my nature."

"Brother, you do not need to change who you are at all," she shook her head. "Though I can hardly fathom why, your wife loves you dearly. She had no delusions when you were wed, and she does not wish to change you. You do not need to change who you are, but do you think you may consider how you express it?"

"That I think I could do," he nodded thoughtfully. Then gave a light grin. "So my dear sister, now that you have taken upon yourself to make me a better husband for my wife, should I proceed to tell you how to be a better wife for your husband?" He folded his arms across his chest and Éowyn's mouth fell open.

"Oh, you despicable cur!" she growled, stalking after him menacingly as he darted away from her with a light laugh.

It was rare to see him so playful when he was often so dour instead, and that was something that Éowyn credited her sister by law with. Times of peace, and a wife had truly been good for her brother and she was eternally grateful to her sister by law.

That did not mean she did not take it upon herself to chase him through their small camp, and deliver him a firm cuff over the ear when he allowed her to catch up to him. Lothíriel giving them a curious look though she was well used to their casual ways. The two of them would banter and fight in much the same manners as her own brothers had done, it was only she was unused to seeing a woman fight so with a man, but she had come to see it was not so strange for the Rohan people. Seeing them no longer worried her, she knew they had both suffered when the hand of Sauruman had closed around their uncle's court. They had only had each other to relay on then, and the cousin they had lost. It was no wonder they would still be close and she enjoyed watching them and their antics.

She was more concerned the next day when Éomer claimed Firefoot wanted a good run and left the main group as soon as they had started the days journey. As luncheon came and went with no sign of him she heard the King Elessar mutter how his fellow liege had apparently still not learned that as a king he had a duty to not act like a boy attempting to escape his lessons.

She had to admit to feeling some worry and apprehension that he was away for so long, though Éowyn seemed unconcerned.

"Firefoot detests moving this slow, and he gets in a foul mood from it," she shrugged. "My brother feels much the same way, like as not he does not realize how foolish his action is, but I can't blame him. He misses this, and I won't begrudge him enjoying it from time to time."

"I would not either, but I wish he would tell me when he intended to do so," Lothíriel sighed. "It has not been unheard of for my husband to get himself in trouble, and I would worry less if I knew he meant to be so long."

"I agree with the sentiment," Aragorn gazed over the plains, recalling his days as a ranger and the freedom of it. His wife knew his mind well, probably better than Lothíriel knew her husband. She understood that he too sometimes wished for the simplicity of that life. She also knew that in his heart he had faced that those days were no more. He would look forward to taking his son out to sleep under the stars, and he would most certainly want to do so in the company of Faramir and Éomer, but he would not take off for days on end, alone, just to sooth his nerves. Éomer detested going somewhere in a royal huff as he called it. He saw no reason why he should need two dozen men and a small village of tents if he wished to make the journey to his sister, when he made it there in half the time alone. "Éomer is not a man to be changed, but I wish sometimes that he would take my counsel." As rulers of their lands they seemed to only rarely find the time to see each others, but he counted Éomer a good friend. He recalled the icy fist that had seemed to want to crush his heart when Éomer had been late, and they had then found him badly injured. Faramir too was haunted by the memory he knew, perhaps even more so.

Faramir and Boromir had been close, no brothers could have loved each other more in spite of Denethor's ways of scorning his youngest son. Boromir had never seen his younger brother as less and Faramir missed him desperately. There was something in Éomer's blunt and hot temperament that reminded them both of Gondor's golden son. The loss of Boromir could never be forgotten and he could never be replaced, but in his brother by law Faramir had found something to sooth the pain. Aragorn had noted how he took the manners of an older brother and it amused him. Éomer, who had lost his own older brother when his cousin died had accepted it with an ease Aragorn had not expected from someone so fiercely independent.

Should something happen to the blond King only because he decided to go off alone without care, it would crush not only his wife and sister, but Faramir as well, and that was enough to grate on Aragorn as they started to look for a suitable place to make camp. His irritation was not soothed when he spied a figure come galloping towards them. The blonde warrior and the magnificent grey stallion moved as one across the rolling hills. Had he not been so irritated by the irresponsible behaviour Aragorn would have enjoyed the sight of such skill. The Rohan people truly were horse lords and it showed especially in those men that like Éomer were born with both the love for their beast, and the skills to master them. Firefoot was never forced by his master, the two of them had shaped a bond from so many years of fighting the evil together. It was never more clear than now, for not even Aragorn could see the rider command the horse, yet he knew it was so.

When Éomer came upon their camp he did not even seem to rein in his horse but Firefoot knew when he wished to slow down just the same and Éomer leaped from the saddle before the horse had even fully stopped. Blonde hair wind whipped and tangled there was a light in his eyes that almost made Aragorn forget his anger. Man and beast truly were one, and they needed to be allowed to be so at times, or neither one would be complete.

"Éomer…." he shook his head, not wishing to lecture him there in front of the others, but wanting to communicate some of his displeasure just the same.

"You dolt!" Éowyn showed no such restraint as to wish to spare his dignity. She cuffed him hard over the back of the head with the skill of much practice. "I ask you to think of your poor wife, and what do you do, you ride off and worry her…."

"My apologies," Éomer sketched a light bow before he moved to unsaddle his horse. "It was not my intention to worry you, beloved, but Firefoot and I had a matter we wished to see to. And I needed some quiet in order to do so." He did not step away from his sister, nor did he show that the slap must have hurt. Aragorn had heard it, and he knew Éowyn to have a hard hand so it must have been felt by the man.

"I understand," Lothíriel decided. "But I would have preferred to know, my husband." She gave him a stern look. "You can not fault me for my concern, though it is a comfort to know you were in good company." She gave the now unsaddled horse a good scratch between the ears. "I do trust your steed to have better judgment."

"Your wife is much too lenient with you, I see no reason to spare you," Éowyn looked ready to hit her brother again though he was still unconcerned.

"As long as you do not cook me supper, you may punish me as you wish," he shrugged and Éowyn's eyes narrowed in anger before she gave him a hard slap over the temple. Éomer only tilted his head to gaze on her, well used to her punishment and she scowled at him.

There was one advantage Aragorn felt. After that comment, she was unlikely to attempt cooking for them, and the relief on his stewards face did not escape him.

"My sister thinks me little better than a troll," the blonde king shrugged. "And she felt it her duty to lecture me afore. You know I am a warrior, my wife, and the ways of the warrior is not what you are used to. I can not, and I will not change who I am, I am Rohan and we are a blunt people who see no use in pointless flowery speech. If I attempted this, it would be but a mockery, and I would not insult you such."

"I have never expected it of you," Lothíriel told him, a hint of worry in her voice. "I only get silly sometimes when I miss my home, and I pray you forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive, on my part, but I beg you, do not feel anger towards me. I would never wish for you to feel not even the slightest neglected, for it was never my intention. I am Rohan, and you must take me for what I am… What I can offer you in the only way I know."

"That my husband, has always been enough, and it always will be," she smiled softly. "I knew you were nothing like those who would have wanted my hand at home, and I am glad for it, for none of them would have made half the husband you did. I would never wish for you to be the slightest bit like them."

"I am glad to hear so, beloved," Éomer pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek, then took a step back from her. Giving a low short whistle that she knew was meant for Firefoot and the other horses to know a command was about to be issued. "Firefoot, blõstma," he commanded in Rohirric and Lothíriel frowned. "Firefoot, blõstma!" As the steed hesitated his voice became firm and the horse tossed his head with a neigh. Wandering off away from them across the grassy plain.

"Firefoot and I did not waste the day, we want for you to know that though Rohan and uncultivated we may be, we are not without feelings," Éomer stated as his horse seemed in search of something. Gracefully bending his muscular neck he took a mouthful of wild flowers in his mouth. Lothíriel knew well enough the Rohan tongue by now to know that was what the word meant, but she did not see the reason. Then Firefoot came to stand before her, flowers in mouth, he placed one hoof in front of her, and moved the other back, bending the knee so that he sketched a bow as he held the flowers out to her.

"Firefoot, thank you!" with a delighted squeal she took the offering, flowers, weeds and grass all, pressing a kiss to his nose. Something that in her home would have been unthinkable, then unable to contain her delight she threw her arms around the horses neck. "That was absolutely delightful!" Giving the horse another kiss she admired the flowers, then threw herself to embrace her husband. "Whatever worry you caused me today, you are more than forgiven," she breathed. "And I find your Rohan ways to be wonderful. For what you tell me, I know you truly mean, and this is a most wonderful gift."

"It did take a while to teach him to offer them and not eat them…." Éomer gave a sheepish smile. "A glutton he is, and horribly spoiled now, but he knows the command, and he shall heed it from you as well. You may have flowers whenever you wish, all you need do is to ask him for them."

"And whenever I do, I will know you loved me enough to do this for me," she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Truly it's a most wonderful gift, and I will never forget. Thank you my husband."

"I think brother, that there is hope for you," Éowyn mused as Aragorn nudged Faramir. With a bit of luck, the two of them would be able to involve themselves with the preparations of supper while Éowyn was distracted. Èomer had surprised them all, though he felt it should not have been such a shock. He was not unfeeling or uncaring, it was simply true what he said that the Rohan people often had simpler ways. They were horse lords though, and Éomer had always been known for his skills in training their beloved horses. Should he wish it, Aragorn fully believed there was nothing he would not be able to train his horse to do.

Lothíriel would no doubt remember and treasure this. For his own part, since Éowyn was far too distracted to even think of taking the pots for supper, Aragorn was grateful to. He could forgive his friend for his careless and reckless behaviour if it meant he did not have to eat his sister's cooking….

A Temporary End...

Please review, the Cricket is hungry...

Additional Author's note: Some of these stories might not fit into the Tolkien timeline, I apologise for this, I have not yet been able to procure an English copy, and therefor there has been things I was unaware of while writing. Some I've changed, some I've left as I liked them.
Most of the Rohirric I use, is, as I believe Tolkien himself used, Old English. Though some is modern Swedish, as, frighteningly enough, these are quite often the same. In order to give the story a more pleasant flow for the reader, I have opted not to use a glossary at the end, rather, I try to make the meaning very clear in the story.