The next morning Éomer was too eager to meet the princess, so he was awake way before dawn and waited, fully dressed, for the sun to rise. When he finally saw the first golden rays, he thought it proper enough to leave his chambers and went out to wait for the princess in the garden. Much was he surprised to see her there already. The pharadine sat on a bench, hand-feeding the birds. There was a smile on her lips, so sincere that it made all her face look radiant. Éomer stood for some time in the shadows, not willing to bother her, but she spoke archly, without turning her head.

'I hail thee, Éomer King! Hope you had a peaceful night.'

'I did,' said Éomer, stepping out and bowing. The pharadine also gave him a small bow, looking amused. Éomer noticed, that she wore no skirts today, but breeches. That was very unusual and disturbing to him, but perhaps in this country it wasn't so uncommon, he thought.

Lûne stood up and started walking. Éomer strode alongside, and soon enough they walked out of the still sleeping palace and moved to a distant long house, that Éomer had noticed before from the windows of the Great Hall. Nobody was there, only two guards outside, who bowed silently. Éomer expected his companion to start a conversation, but she was rather quiet. He didn't know that but she thought how tall and handsome he was, much bigger than any man she ever saw and how safe she felt walking with him through these dewy grasses. The princess was overwhelmed with his closeness and wondered herself why Éomer was equally mute. Somehow this silence was not awkward at all.

At long last they reached the golden gates with elaborate engravings and Éomer realized where they were. Stables. The pharadine walked in and patted the black horse with white mane that was the closest to the entrance. The horse touched her cheek with his nose and Lûne laughed merrily.

'Here is my darling Ithil,' she said.

Ithil, of course. The moon. The name suited the horse well, and Éomer was really the man to appreciate a good horse. Immediately he remembered his true Firefoot and felt pain in his chest. And yet another pang of pain was to come.

'Tomorrow you'll be leaving,' said the princess quiet impassively, but she bent at the moment, so Éomer couldn't see her face behind the curtain of her locks.

Tomorrow!

'It is a tradition for a queen to give a farewell gift to her guest. And I hope my gift suits you.'

She walked slowly to the next cabin and Éomer saw there a light-grey horse, so beautiful that even a horse-lord marveled at such a beast. No way a princess would be giving him an animal like that as a present...

'He is yours. He was trained as a war-horse, and I know that your stallion fell. Please take Nárië, you need a horse to ride back home and he is the best I have.'

'Nárië?' Éomer was amazed that princess had given elvish names to her horses.

'Yes. It is simple, he was born that month, at the waxing moon,' she smiled and brushed the horse's neck with her fingers. 'I help my horses when it's a foaling season and remember each of them,' she added when noticed an amazed look on Éomer's face. 'Would you like to have a ride?'

Of course he did. He flung into a saddle and was happy to see that the horse welcomed him and that his own body was ready to do such a movement without any difficulty. He looked at the princess and saw a satisfied smile on her face.

So they rode. The morning was calm, the grounds surrounding the palace were green and bountiful; and Éomer couldn't remember whether he was ever so happy as then. They laughed and made their horses gallop, they pranced and trotted, they breathed fresh air and watched the sun climb the sky. Éomer even sang in Rohirric and was astonished when the pharadine sang along. But after an hour she asked him to come back to the palace. She was still a bit afraid that he was not quite recovered yet, and he had a long ride to make soon. Too soon.

'I want to thank you, Éomer King,' said the princess, when they finally left their horses in the stables and were walking towards the palace. Both of them seemed reluctant to go back, so they walked slowly.

'Thank me? But why... Alas, I was rude and brash, and I am unworthy of your kindness.'

'You are honest and brave. I like you, Éomer King. It was an honor to have you here. And a pleasure...'

Éomer thought that perhaps the princess felt lonely in her own palace just as much as he himself in Meduseld. He wanted to take her hand, but checked that improper impulse. Instead he asked her a question that bothered him.

'You speak Rohirric so well. How come?'

Lûne lingered for a moment.

'I knew you'd ask. My dear father wanted me to marry some day one of the captains of the West. So that's why he insisted I learned Westron and Rohirric. He even took me to Belfalas once, but I was a kid and don't remember anything except for the sea journey.' The princess paused. 'He was too naive. Even then it was obvious that the war was inevitable and that it was silly to hope that some Gondorian lord would ever lay his eyes upon a Haradrim. When he was killed, I continued my studies just because I loved him.' She sighed. 'Quite embarrassing, but it turned out to be useful though, right?'

Éomer looked in her gloomy eyes and couldn't help but ask one more question.

'Do I really need to go away tomorrow?'

The pharadine searched him inquisitively.

'I'm afraid so. When I saw that you'd almost recovered I wrote a letter to King Elessar and to meet him well you should go tomorrow till midday.'

She wondered if it was too bad to wish that the King of Rohan had recovered slower. But she was wise to keep that outrageous thoughts to herself.

Dimbold and Fraca were also devastated that they were to leave the next day, but they were comforted a bit when the princess gave them golden flasks as a present. They were glad to know that Éomer would have a horse of his own to ride back home.

When the dusk fell they were all invited to the Great Hall again to share the evening meal with the princess. It was abundant as usual, and the dancers were amusing them, but Éomer was so uneasy that it took all his self control not to show his disturbance to anyone else. He sat by the princess and admired her beauty. Lûne wore today a silk saffron dress, that left her shoulders uncovered. Éomer wanted to raise his glass and thank that slender flower-like woman for saving his life, but he had no courage to do that. He wanted to look at the princess closely to remember every single detail of her appearance, but was too scared to do it, so he studied his plate instead. That was why in the end of the day the King of Rohan was much disappointed with himself and went to his chamber irked and unhappy.

He had already started to undress when he heard a soft knock on his door.

The princess came in, carrying something heavy with her. Éomer was so glad to see her that wasn't even worried at the moment that he was already wearing his night shirt. The pharadine, still clad in her dress, was a tad confused. Éomer thought that in candlelight her skin looked like honey. She wasn't wearing her hair up, it seemed that she started to undress and undo her hair and then suddenly remembered something.

'My lord,' she said, sitting by his bed and laying two volumes in front of the King. 'I thought that you might find this interesting.'

Éomer took the first folio in his hands, trying not to touch the princess lest she would feel uncomfortable. He opened the book gingerly. There were pictured numerous star charts and constellations.

'If you'd ever come to these lands again, the stars wouldn't be strange to you,' said princess Lûne indecisively.

Éomer came up to the window eagerly with an opened book. He hesitated for a moment and then whispered excitedly, showing the constellation near the Moon,

'I see the Oliphaunt!'

The pharadine beamed. Then she pointed at the other book.

'This one is quite different.'

Éomer took the second volume and saw that it contained some sort of medical information in Westron, starting with the general tips on hygiene.

'It is quite basic, my lord,' faltered Lûne. 'But I hear that there are many diseases in your region, especially dangerous for the little ones, and I hope that this writings might save those little lives.'

It suddenly dawned on Éomer.

'You wrote these manuscripts, didn't you?'

The princess nodded.

'I can not thank you enough, pharadine,' bowed Éomer and he looked as kingly in his night shirt as a king ever could. 'I will use them wisely.'

'I have no doubt,' she smiled and bowed in return.

...

They were standing on the hill, three Rohirrims and the pharadine of Khûr. The princess brought a map with her, where she marked the place where Aragorn would meet them in twelve hours. The princess's escort was much agitated and talked relentlessly, but the princess explained that it had nothing to do with their departure — that night one of the High Pharadin's counselors, Ar-Radhi, was found dead. So there were many reasons for the princess to be grave, and when Éomer noticed tears in her eyes, he didn't think it was for his sake.

The princess gave Éomer her ring with a huge sapphire and her engraving, in order to keep them safe from the stray Haradrim troops in the desert.

'May your journey be safe and easy,' she said softly and put out her hand. Éomer looked at it, not sure whether he should shake it or kiss, but most of all he wanted to kiss the princess on her lips and take her with him. But his confusion was understood differently by the princess. She took her hand away in dismay and mounted the horse swiftly. So she took his perplexity for scorn.

'My lady...' started Éomer in despair.

But her gaze was averted.

'You don't owe me anything, Éomer King,' the pharadine said coldly. 'Fare thee well.'

And in a moment she was already farther than he could reach, and all her people followed her immediately. Éomer and his men mounted their horses as well and turned north. The grey horse bore his new master diligently back to his land and his people.