Chapter 4

Mildred resigned herself to preparing the dough and kneading as Mil – one hand down – stuck to oven care and tending loaves in rise.

Their morning neared start; the market was alive with the sounds of preparation in anticipation for the morning's wave of customers.

"Check those sticky buns," Mildred said gently. "The palace sends someone to fetch them right away. For the king's first meal."

They were the perfect amount of done – almost on the point of golden with a soft center with a delicious perfume of spices.

Mildritha took great care to prepare them for the royal palace with the hopes that Eomer would like them. Despite the strangeness she felt about him, Eomer's happiness mattered to her in a deep space. She had them wrapped and ready, still warm, when a weary eyed face popped into view with a start.

"Wyn." She looked over the girl with concern. "Are you alright? Is something wrong?"

A milky white hand covered her mouth as she yawned loudly. "No. Why would it?"

The girl never saw the sun so low in the sky.

"You're never awake this early."

"This early does not suit me." Eowyn stared up at the morning sky above her head with a long frown. The deep faraway look in her eye seemed a slumber while waking. "Theodred sent me to fetch those sticky buns and you."

Her mother approached from behind. Their hips touched as she stood in interest at what Eowyn had to say. Mildritha's face burned bright.

"Lord Theodred?" Her mother's voice echoed in excitement.

Mil internally groaned.

Eowyn did not notice. "Eomer was called away to training early, but there was worry of Mil's injury going forgotten. Theodred invited her to dine with us this morn so that our healer might look her over."

"How kind of the lord to take notice," Mildred answered. "Come Mildritha, let me give you the last of the sticky buns so that you might be on your way."

Mildritha looked in her hand where the royal order of goods was already wrapped. She cocked her brow but followed at the urgency of her mother's eye. Eowyn, still leaned against the front with her long dress toying in the morning breeze, was unrushed. Her eyes swept the street in slow glide. Her lips parted in another small yawn. The lady completely missed the unblinking stare of her mother.

Mil stepped into the back where the oven's heat burst against her face. "I thought this was all they need -."

Her mother grabbed a towel and set to wiping the length of her dress. She moved quick. The towel hit the fabric and shook loose all the bits of flour.

"We must have you presentable for the palace tables."

Mil rolled her eyes. "They've seen me covered in flour before."

"An invitation to the palace. What joy!" Mildred raised her eyes to meet that of her daughters. "You will remember your manners, won't you?"

She was not a little girl. Reminded of manners. The palace was a place she went to near every day without reminder or care of how she looked.

Mildred took fingers and pulled at her hair next. "Please think on what I've said. Try not to seem rude when offered a place under Lady Eowyn. Whether you like it or not, it is a generosity."

"Ma -."

"And think of that young lord," her mother said. It stole the words right out of her mouth. She questioned why she would need to think of Eomer. "I can't imagine how happy it would make him to see you taken care of so well. Plenty of food in your belly, nice pretty dresses, without need to whittle your fingers to nothing."

Mildritha swallowed the large knot at the back of her throat. The day prior still rattled around her mind – unsolved. She did not know whether to be disrespected by Eomer's attention, as Bawdewyn pointed out, or honored by it, as her mother said to be. Was she meant for a life in the palace with lords and ladies and finery or was a baker's life in market better? Her soul was pulled apart with indecision.

Eowyn gave a small smile when Mildritha emerged from the back of the tent. She took no care in the gussied up appearance – how silly – for an invitation to breakfast, as if Mil took the care to do it before. They took the paths together upward to Meduseld.

"Did Theodred really send for me?" Mil asked.

Wyn's head drifted back in a groan. "Yes. He had the maids wake me early and ready me so that you were there when they returned from their training. It was awful. They pulled the curtains back and I thought I'd gone blind."

At least one remained the same.

They entered the Golden Hall to the lively chattering of the Riders of Rohan's breakfast, all gathered at the tables within the walls of Meduseld, eating and grumbling their early morning woes onto their brethren. The slam of large mugs hit the wooden tables in thunderous roar.

At the front of the hall was a front table adorned with décor, as sparse as it was, was made as the head table of the men. Their king dined at it center, overlooking the sprawl of a room before him. On each side was a beloved son of his: Theodred on the right, Eomer on the left.

Their faces were flushed from early morning exercises. Eomer held a full plate in front of him compared to his uncle's lacking one.

Eowyn dipped her head in slight bow before she took her seat across from Theoden King. He gave a short acknowledgement. The small kind eyes roamed upward to her. They met her with a smile.

"Ah. Mildritha. What a staple you have become in my palace. Please." He gestured to the open seat across from Eomer. The young man paused. A cheerful dance in his eye from behind his mug. "No family meal without you and your wares."

The top of her cheeks flushed red. "Your grace is too kind."

"Nonsense." He reached for her delivery that was placed center table. Fingers from all over grabbed their share after the king. Eomer being one of the first to. "It only pains me to suggest that you abandon your post as baker."

Her body stilled.

Eomer's chewing slowed as his eyes flashed to the uncle at his side.

"You could always use the kitchens should you want to continue your craft," Theoden suggested.

Her friend's eyes flashed in excitement toward her. Like he knew just how much that would mean to her.

The head table was full of comfort. All those gathered around enveloped her into their ranks without insult at her low station. Theodred had invited her. Eowyn kept asking to have her place permanently etched into their lives while her brother, Eomer, would keep her there whether it was secure or not. He never forgot her.

Even the king was being kind. Kinder than she deserved, too.

The moment before her was embossed in perfection. A family of love gathered together for a meal before their days tore them apart.

All her indecision melted away.

She would surrender a thousand nights at city hall for one morning as this. With her friends. Theodred, Eowyn. Of course, there was no replacing Eomer. He was just too difficult to.

"By any means, Eowyn needs an attendant. We are few in this house that can tend to her as well as you. It is only an official title, of course." King Theoden moved his hands as he spoke. She sat with her chin level to the floor. "This palace is the realm of men. A lonely place for a young woman. Our dear Eowyn." The girl perked in her seat. The attention of her uncle filled her chest with that unsurmountable pride. "She says you are a comfort. A comfort to us all, really. Right, Theodred?"

The prince lowered his fork. "Yes, Father. I loathe the days that her sunny face has not cheered up my dear cousin's face. Inconsolable."

Eomer coughed into his mug. It turned his face bright red at the bold words clearly aimed at him.

"Yes. Quite right," Theoden said.

A sharp glare turned toward the prince from Eomer's seat.

Prince Theodred gave her a fluttering wink that only burned Eomer's blush brighter.

"Thank you, my lord," her mouth echoed.

He dipped his head in a short bow.

The king continued on without notice of the ribbing, "It would be a service to me if you would take on the position of lady's attendant for Lady Eowyn."

Mildritha knew that question was coming. It still did not render her prepared for such a heavy weight to be upon her shoulders at the sight of the entire royal court and Eored.

Her mother wanted her to. Eowyn certainly wished for her to be there. It was her suggestion.

Eomer was the opinion that she truly cared about. He was her best friend. How she'd let others puncture the confidence she had in him, she did not know, but it was not true in her heart. They were closer than siblings, the other halves of themselves.

Her eyes flicked to his. Her tongue went dry.

The young man, still dressed in his rider leathers, awaited her answer just as eagerly as the rest of them.

She bowed her head. "I am honored, your grace. I accept your offer."

"Splendid," the king said.

Eowyn beamed. As did the twinkle in Eomer's eye.

"Where is her room going to be? I want it close to mine," Eowyn chattered.

The boys turned their eyes to the young woman. Eomer shook his head.

It was Theodred who corrected her. "Attendants don't live in the palace, Eowyn."

"But. She has to. Uncle, please. Forget the room. She can stay in my room with me like last time," Eowyn pleaded. "Or at the very least Eomer's."

Again, he coughed in surprise, choking on his breakfast.

"That would be most inappropriate," King Theoden stated.

"But it's the closest to my room," she whined.

"Where am I supposed to sleep?" Eomer retorted.

The young lady rolled her eyes. "You won't be here."

"Where will I be?"

Mildritha blinked. "You are a rider now, Lord Eomer. You are gone for weeks at a time."

King Theoden shushed the confusion on the table by establishing that a room would be open to her whenever she wished. It would be open to her use without asking. The distance to Eowyn's room would be farther than she wanted, but there was a sinking suspicion that Eowyn would sneak her in her own room.

Quiet contentment washed through the table. Things were settled. Her place established inside their lives.

Many times throughout their meal, she caught Eomer's eyes looking at her. She swallowed back her smiles with everyone around. He nodded like he understood. It did not deflect his attention.

"How's the hand?" He asked. He put his arm across the table.

Theoden and Theodred discussed something to themselves. Eowyn listened happily. The rest of the table was lost in its own bubble. She suddenly realized how lonely it was to be him.

She raised the wrapped palm. "Tender, still. It stopped bleeding though."

It settled in his open hand. He peered at it close. When it passed his inspection, he nodded.

"Do you have training all day?"

He shrugged. "Probably. Theodred likes my arms to not work at the end of the day."

"Better to keep you out of trouble, cousin," Theodred supplied, apparently attuned to their conversation.

Her face bloomed with warmth.

Those arms had wrapped her in many hugs, stolen her into small places to kiss her with tenderness, hoisted her by the waist up and down horse saddles and tree branches. Her mind thought of all the places those arms still hadn't touched…

They finished their breakfast not long after. The noise of clattering shields and swords and clanking metal shin guards rose throughout the space.

Theodred raised up from the table, stealing a last sip before he tilted his head to Eowyn. "Ladies." He addressed her, too, shocking her. "Have a pleasant day."

Eowyn waved. Her legs swung happily, still eating bits of her meal.

Mildritha bowed her head as she thought was most respectful of a man so much more important than her. His high rank made her feel as if she stood stand to curtesy fully. Though the king showed no insult to her action, she guessed it was acceptable enough.

Her cheeks blistered with sensation. She turned and found Eomer's eyes on her.

"Good day, Lady Mildritha. Sister. I shall see you later."

Later. A code that she did not miss.

He walked after his cousin along with the other soldiers. They were all older, more experienced in their training, yet his head was the one that towered over all of them.

Eowyn's triumph was too large for the rest of the day. She did not stop smiling.

"Finally," the lady declared in the comfort of her royal room. "We never have to be apart."

"I should tell my mother that I've accepted. She'll probably be so busy at the stall now."

"Ah. Since you have to live with your mother still." Eowyn was far too bitter about the aspect they would not have every night together. "You can still help. I won't send guards to get you if you are gone when I wake."

"How gracious," she replied flatly.

They ventured out to the market to announce the good news. Good news, it was. Her mother was so thrilled that true tears formed in her eyes as she embraced her tight. "Don't you worry about me. This is about you. You are getting all that you deserve. Don't spoil it with that tongue, Mildritha. You hear me? Enjoy this."

Eowyn was sure to inform her that there would be nights that she was expected to sleep at Meduseld to keep her company. Her mother was all too happy to kick her out to keep the lady occupied.

It was a jarring upset to what she expected. Her mother seemed all the ready to be done with her in a clean sweep.

"It won't be often," she corrected. "I'll still go with you to city hall. After Eowyn retires."

"It's a city hall, Mil. Nothing different is going to happen there. You'll be staying in a better hall."

"We have to celebrate," Eowyn declared. "Spend the night at the palace with me. Please. Please. We'll use the royal musicians so we can dance all night long. Singing. Oh, we can sing, too."

"That sounds like a grand time." Mildred's mouth curled to a smile. "I'll have to make you more dresses. The ones you have are not fit for any gathering in which king and prince are in attendance."

"I doubt they will care," Mildritha replied.

Theodred was not so hung up on his standing that he looked down on her when she was less than put together. Theoden king, too, saw her with messy hair and flour-coated skirts without paying attention to her disarray. They were kind to her in every circumstance.

The market pace began to grow. Sounds of the city came alive in the warming sun of late morning.

Eowyn stayed to assist in pulling bread from the oven as Eorlingas entered the market stall in a wave of need. All at once, they were surrounded.

Mildritha and Mildred worked quickly to serve all the customers, making small town talk along the way. It then dropped to her sole responsibility to tend to sales since the bandage on her hand could not knead the new batches of dough.

She made her way through. The purse overflowed with coins.

Her back was turned to adjust the stacks of older breads toward the front when the sensation of being watched seized her neck. She snapped back around.

A lean figure stood on the cusp of their stall.

"How's the hand?" It asked.

The voice grated her nerves. "Fine."

Bawdewyn entered the tent. Without invitation. Her eyes struggled to light him on fire with just her gaze.

"Didn't get you in trouble, did I?"

She snorted. "Eorl, save me. No. You did not." She turned back to her task. He was not worth the welcoming service. "You must think lowly of Lord Eomer to believe him so petty."

"I've seen how he behaves at city hall."

She lifted a brow. Not once had she noticed Bawdewyn at city hall when she went. Nor had they spoken before that night he walked her home.

"It is a wonder how he took to you so quick," he said.

Her teeth clamped shut to keep anger from spilling out.

Truly, Bawdewyn was not worth the effort. He was grating and entitled and everything she disliked about men – before Eomer.

"It is not right for him to force you." He stepped deeper into the stall. She felt his presence grow stronger, nearer her side.

"Does it look like I can be forced to do anything?"

Hearing their voices from the back, Eowyn emerged with curiosity. The pale eyes on the lady's face lit with interest as she approached.

The silence between them now was tense. Mildritha moved to keep the distance between Bawd and her young friend. His dislike of her brother was overwhelming. It was uncertain what he'd say or do to the sister of Eomer as he did not spare Mil's own feelings when it came to her dear devotion to the lord.

"Hello." Her royal manners were not forgotten. "Keeping secret friends, Mil?"

Mildritha said nothing. Her eyes blared hot fire at the man. If he would not get the message soon, he'd burst into flame from the pressure of her gaze.

"I'm Eowyn." Her pale hair fluttered in a breeze, coming loose from behind her shoulders.

"My lady." He bowed.

It was surprise he knew even how to do that.

The back flaps of the stall parted. Her mother emerged.

"My, my. Look at that. Little Bawdewyn all grown up," her mother declared. She smiled in delight. "Boy, you are a spitting image of your father."

The young man showed a small smile. It evoked the most emotion she'd seen.

"Mildritha, do you remember little Bawdewyn when he used to come visit us with his father?"

"No," she replied, baffled.

They'd met, before?

"Oh, sure you do. You two were inseparable during those visits. Bawd would dote on you when you were little, no matter how hard you resisted his help." Her mother was lost in a memory. Another energy came to her face that had not emerged in so long that it struck a chord through Mildritha's heart to see it. "Your father used to talk about the pair of you. He'd always say that little Bawdewyn would be our son-in-law. Ah, those days feel so long ago. Bawd, you remember my Mil, don't you?"

His eyes locked in hers with velocity. "That I do."

Her skin washed in cold ice. The memory of those days was long distance, happy ones with her father, that she did not give time to anymore. Nor did she remember him by look. He was taller now, a man, but she did remember a boy. She could never place him. Where he came from in memory, but it skidded her heart to a full stop.

They knew one another. Long ago.

She kept gulping her air for a chance to breathe. Her eyes fluttered blinks too fast.

Eowyn shifted at her side. A gentle hand touched the back of her elbow. As if it held her to standing.

"Enough with the past. It is good to see the pair of you back together again. Old friends feel so much different than new ones," Mildred rattled on despite the pleading in Mil's eyes that said stop. For the love of Brego, stop talking. "Your mother sent you to fetch her daily bread. That's what he's here for. Mil, grab what Kinburga orders when she's here."

Her body moved through motions she did not command. Every thought in her head was blank.

She passed the order to him quickly. Anything to get him out of the stall.

"Ma. I've got to get Wyn back to the palace."

Her mother smiled and waved. "Of course, Mil." She then leaned over to Bawd. "My daughter's been given a position on Theoden king's staff. She'll be working at Meduseld now. Isn't that something?"

Mildritha did not wait to hear his response. She slipped out, with Eowyn right on her tail. They looped arms on the walk back. Her pace had little Eowyn stumbling to keep up.

"You didn't remember him?" Her small voice finally asked.

The open air did well to relieve the panic in her chest. Crisp clean almost cool air wiped her lungs of the filth of her emotions. Each exhale washed more and more of the bad feelings away.

"No. Not in the slightest," she whispered in response.

"Does it change your feelings for my brother then?"

Her eyes widened. She turned to her friend who offered nothing more than a shrug.

"You won't stop being my friend if they do, right?" The quiet voice asked.

Mildritha shook her head. "It changes nothing. Even if we have history, he's gone about it in a terrible way."

"He walked you home, didn't he?"

That was all she'd told Wyn happened. There were intimate details missed. And they had not even discussed her injury. "Well…"

She recounted what precisely happened. Details that she didn't even tell Eomer.

Eowyn was thoroughly disgusted and put off men by the time they reached the Golden Hall. They overlooked the grounds of Meduseld hidden from city sight. There in a low stretch of land were lines of riders in their red leather gear. Each bore a sword. They took turns attacking a few leaders at the front.

It was not difficult to locate her friend through the crowd. He was far too tall to miss. Even if he did not stick out like a colt in a corral of stallions, she'd recognize his impulsive aggression anywhere. He paid very little thought to attacking with his full force.

Theodred – who she now recognized as one of the sparring leaders – took time to correct his form. His voice carried on the wind as it swept over the walls of the city. She heard him yell Eomer's name and tell him to slow down.

"Don't you wish you could be down there?" Eowyn was enthralled with the display. She held onto a post as she observed every motion of the training.

Mildritha rolled her eyes and pulled her away from the sight. "No. Neither should you."

"It is like the tales of old. Death and glory. Forever lived on."

There was a festering darkness that she noticed through the time they spent together. It started as a macabre outlook, now it bordered on action. Eowyn spoke of fighting in wars, slaying things, an interest in death. It rivaled the pale soft of her exterior to hear such fascination in her tone as she spoke on it more and more.

Mildritha fought out ideas of death and glory and war as best she could. Their darkness was too foul to give life to inside her mind.

She cared for those out there. Eomer and Theodred were at the front lines of such savagery; too much for her to take comfort in victorious death. Their deaths would be devastating, no matter the success. The price, too steep for her to pay.

Eowyn once again pressured her uncle to allow her a small lively night with music and song and dance and food to celebrate Mildritha's acceptance. It was willingly given, but she debated how much free will the man had to the wiles of those round innocent eyes.

The boys cleaned and washed for supper as Eowyn dragged Mil onto the dancefloor. String instruments played. The sounds filled the room with their melody as Theodred and Eomer were given their fill of food.

She yearned to find Eomer's eyes in a silent hello, but Eowyn demanded all of her attention. They danced and twirled and spun together. The lady laughed. Her mouth opened with the hearty sounds exit.

It pulled smiles from Mil's face to see the woeful girl so happy.

Sometime later, the round eyes lit with excitement. She ran to the edge of the room. Her hands held Eomer's as she dragged him behind her. His face was two shades of red at his sister's urging.

"Come on. Dance with me," she begged. "We always dance together."

Mildritha stood off to the side as the pair danced. Their faces were boastful of their glee, no matter how hard Eomer tried to pretend otherwise.

An elbow touched hers. "I hear you're a bit of a dancer."

The corner of her mouth curled slight. "Whomever told you such a lie should be punished."

"Don't play coy, Mil. He does not pay unearned compliments." A smile split Theodred's face. "Plus. It'll drive him crazy."

He offered up his hand. She dipped her body and took his offer with a small smile.

Eomer watched the pair of them walk out onto the wide-open floor.

"You take much pleasure in tormenting him," she mused.

Theodred was a splendid dancer. He moved with motion, and rhythm. It infected her with its similar release.

"Ah. What are brothers for?"

He gave her a spin. The tips of his fingers circled her waist as she spun.

"Theodred!" Eowyn interjected. "How come you never spin me like that?"

Her cousin shook his head. "You never ask."

She dropped away from Eomer and approached. "Spin me. Spin me just like that."

"Eowyn," Theodred chuckled. "You can't just interrupt a dance."

"She can dance with Eomer! He'd much rather dance with her, too."

Mildritha swallowed a giggle. It was an anxious one, seeing as Eomer did not like such vibrant attention by his family when it came to their friendship.

Eomer rolled his eyes and took Mil's hands. "She's a more courteous partner than you," he called out to his sister with no hint of anger in his tone.

It made her heart flutter alive.

Their bodies fell into motions she knew from city hall. Familiar tunes filled their chests. Their eyes held in long gaze as they circled one another.

Their intimate party died down into the evening. Dwindling light left Eowyn stretched in a yawn every ten minutes until she finally decided to retire. It was the first night Mil was there to take her to bed and tend to her every whim – which was more of begging Mil to sleep in her bed.

She assured her that when she awoke, they would have breakfast together and spend the afternoon picnicking. It lured the young lady to sleep.

Mil brushed the long hair out of Eowyn's face. Her chest slowed. Breaths came less frequent as sleep embraced her.

Mildritha sneaked on quiet foot out of the suite into the hall. The latch only just clicked in place when she was cloaked in shadow.

The hall betrayed not a step of his long body. He melted in through the stretching cloaks of blackness throughout.

He raised a single finger to his lips. He soundlessly gestured down the hall.

They quietly slipped the notice of the other members of the house into the grounds of Meduseld. There was a small awning from one of the royal guest quarters, absent an occupant, that he crept onto it with one stretch of his expansive legs. He held out a hand to help her cross.

The thatch awning was scratchy with its straw reeds, but she did not mind it.

Quiet away from everything else reminded her of those lovely morning rides they took together as younger fools. Not the maturing fools they were now.

Eomer slipped his cloak off and placed it around her shoulders. The smell of his pine soap draped the air around her.

She pushed her cheek against his shoulder as they looked out over the darkness of the Kingstead. A sea of stars above their head reflected back on the grass, highlighting the faintest of their texture through the whole. The wind rustled through the grasses. It moved like ripples of water through the darkness.

"Is this your view?" She asked. "When you are away."

He looked up at the sky above his head. "It does not seem as pretty then, but yes. It is."

"I hate it when you go away," she felt her lips murmur.

All the heartache she'd let Bawd and her mother cause for liking Eomer was fruitless because there was no ache stronger than when he left. She was torn in two in his absence. And it made her feel all the more vulnerable. Without him, she would be drenched in sorrow.

She didn't like to linger on the thought long. Not when her time with the young lord was short.

Eomer swung his legs over the side of the awning. There was many feet below them that was open air. He gave no fear of it. "Me too," he answered softly. "But. I do not mind it when I am needed. This is our home. Our lives. I would rather it be me that rides out than you."

He allowed her to wrap her arms around his one, still keeping her cheek pressed to his mound of muscle in his bicep. It was not the most comfortable, but it was him. That was worth the crick in the neck.

The lord tilted; his hand went to his pocket.

Horse whinnies rode on the calm air of night. Cries from stalls down the hillside from the depths of the city. There were echoing snorts from the stables just alongside the palace. The serenity of the Riddermark was not complete without the sounds of their happy horses.

"Speaking of," Eomer said. He held out something for her to take. "This is for you." It was a bracelet made of round wooden beads. "I made it."

She held the bracelet up to the light to catch a better glimpse of its work. There were two beads carved with horse silhouettes. Each at one side of the circle.

"Firefoot and Eryx." He pointed out which was which.

It was so beautiful. "Wow, 'Mer. That's amazing. I can't believe you made this for me."

"I thought you could wear it. You know. When I'm not here, so that I do not feel so far away," he explained. She thought the tops of his cheeks turned red. "If you want."

"Of course, I want." The bracelet slipped over her hand. It hugged her wrist perfectly. "I love it."

"I love you," he blurted.

She blinked.

They'd danced around the idea for a while. Close to a year. She knew they both held feelings like that – beyond their friendship – which is why they never ceased to sneak off for every moment to kiss and hug and breathe each other's air.

Eomer never introduced the idea of being more. Neither did she.

In fact, they did not acknowledge what they did in private to anyone. It was their business. She was happy to keep it that way. Their friendship was all people should see.

Still, it did come as a shock to hear it said aloud.

"Sorry," he swiftly recovered. "That came out – in my head, it felt right to say."

"It's okay. I don't mind," she assured him. "I love you, too. I've not done a good job acting like I do, but really, Eomer. You're my best friend. I am wholly devoted to you."

He pressed his forehead to hers. "I know I am not like the other men. Men like Bawd. With families and homes of many riches." Said the nephew of the king. How did he not believe himself included in Theoden's family? "But not one of them would love you harder than me. You'd never have to want for a thing. If it required the blood of my body, the strength of my muscle, every ounce of my life, I'd give it all to keep you, happy, safe, with me."

The frantic hitting of her pulse against the fibers of her chest outward to her extremities. Excitement flooded through the taut tension of uncertainty. She was relieved and tight at the same moment.

Feelings took hold of her body – like out at the stream – that were foreign and weird. Their strong grasp on her thoughts had her circling the drain of being liquid through his fingers. Whatever he wished to use her for, she'd be at his disposal. Drunk through beautiful lips, washed against his body, thrown out onto the horses to be of better use.

Her throat was taut. She blinked through the urge to speak as she knew the hot want of his lips on hers would undo all her flesh in ways that would frighten the young lord away. He respected her. He liked to keep that respect intact.

Their breaths were hot from their lips. She tasted the ale from his mouth in the air as she breathed in deep.

He leaned further against her. "It does not have to change things."

"Do you want it to?" She questioned.

"Only what you want is what matters."

A flattered smile grew on her lips. She could not help it.

He was too perfect to be a man. "You sell yourself short, my lord."

His body moved away from hers to observe her in his distrust.

"It will be I who must do all I can to keep you. Seeing as a handsome son of Eorl roams these streets. A palace stallion no less!" She chuckled. He shared in her amusement. "You are a man of great quality, Eomer, son of Eomund. There will come a time where women from all over Middle Earth will flock to the Golden Hall of the horse lords to get the chance to ensnare you."

"I am not the man to be ensnared," he said. "I've been trapped from the moment I met you. I am yours."

If he knew what he did with words, he did not act like it.

His arms shot out in surprise when she clambered into his lap to full on suck the beauty right out of his body through moist lips. The bristles of his little mustache did not slow her.

Arms wrapped around the back of his cloak, slowly taking her closer in their hold until she was pressed against his chest. Her breasts heaved with excited breath against him when they parted mouths.

Eomer slid a finger down the soft side of her face. It tingled in warmth against the chill of coming night.

"I should take you back inside, Miss Mildritha, before you are missed."

"No." She shook her head. "Please. Just a little while longer."

She stayed curled in his lap, plenty warm from his body heat. Her fingers played with the ends of his hair as he rested against the palace walls. The touch of his hands around her body filled her with happiness she never knew.