An Excuse

by mmindy399

Eomer and Lothiriel met three years before the Ring War. He was a handsome, knee-weakening Marshal, and she was a young princess hopelessly out of her depth. Now, three years later, she has had time to explore what he awoke within her and feels ready to meet him again. (A continuation of a meet cute between Eomer and Lothiriel, set before the war.)

4. Chapter 4

The evening of May 1st

Minas Tirith

I swirled the red wine in my goblet, the liquid sloshing close to the rim. I waited for the wine to settle before bringing the goblet to my lips, taking a deep drink. I closed my eyes as I felt the warmth slide down my throat. It served a refreshing contrast to the cool night breeze.

I stood leaning against the walls of the terrace beyond the main hall of Minas Tirith. A celebration following the crowning of our new liege, King Elessar, had broken out throughout the city, but the nobility and high military ranks of both Gondor and Rohan had relegated themselves to the topmost level. As I looked over the city, I could see lights in the taverns and homes of the survivors and hear the music and revelry floating up. The peoples of Middle Earth celebrated their survival and the destruction of the evil in the East. Behind me, I could hear the more sedate celebration typical of high Gondorian society drifting out from the main hall. Few had ventured out to the terrace for fresh air, so I was relatively alone at my spot along the wall.

It had been an arduous few weeks. As soon as the company of men had set off to march on the Black Gates, I got to work. I could not just sit idly by, waiting for news on the fate of all Middle Earth. Minas Tirith was in shambles, the surrounding villages had been decimated, and someone needed to organize the cleaning up. Thankfully, my bossy tendencies came to my advantage. I'd had some administrative experience in Dol Amroth, my father insisting I should be useful for something other than dancing and embroidery. And so, I took the liberty of stepping in while Faramir healed. I gathered the steward's administrators, trade advisors, and the chief foremen of the city to organize our most pressing needs: clearing out the rubble, starting reconstruction, and reopening transportation routes for agriculture and livestock now that the enemy had largely been driven away. Our more sobering tasks included identifying and burying the dead and making arrangements for the widows of fallen solders to receive pensions that might ease some of their loss. It was painful and it felt nearly impossible, but the task of rebuilding had to start at some point.

I didn't have too much trouble spearheading the efforts. I had watched my father often enough to know that I did not have to be an expert in all matters to be effective. I merely had to collect the experts and provide a path forward for them to put their skills into practice. I had also inherited his ability to maintain an authoritative aloofness that perhaps made it easier for these great men to follow the directive of a woman young enough to be their daughter. It helped that I had the title of princess to back me up.

Once Faramir recovered and could step in as steward, his additional authority helped to expedite our efforts. A renewed determination had gripped him as we set to restore the city, but I noticed that he spent nearly all his spare time with Eowyn, the Slayer of the Witch King and sister of Eomer. She was a stoic woman, beautiful in a cold way, but intimidating in her unsmiling demeanor. I had only seen her give the softest of smiles when Faramir was in her company, as if a ray of sunlight had broken through an overcast sky. Faramir, for his part, showed a tenderness that I had not seen in him before. He gravitated towards her, always finding some excuse to return to her side. It seemed I wasn't the only one completely taken in by one of the Rohirrim.

Scarcely ten days after our men had left Minas Tirith for a final stand against the enemy, an earthquake from the East shook our city. I had raced to the city walls at the top level, looking towards Mordor to see, far in the distance, the eruption of Mount Doom. What did this mean? Were we to brace ourselves for another attack? Were we all ruined? But then the sun broke through the constant darkness in the East, and we received word that the impossible had happened. That evil was finally gone, and victory was ours.

Despite the impossible joy, it was agony waiting to hear who had survived the great siege and, terrifyingly, who had not. I breathed easy for the first time in days when I learned that my father and brothers were alive and well and would be returning home to me along with the King of Rohan.

Relief swept through me, and then a few days later, panic. In all the chaos of rebuilding, I hadn't spent much time thinking through of the implications of Eomer returning to me. I had stolen a few moments to think of our reunion. Would he kiss me? Would he envelop me in a passionate embrace? Would he perhaps touch me where I wanted him most?

After spending a few hazy moments on our reunion, I then began to look further into the future. Would we then… wed? Would I leave behind my home and move to Rohan?

Would I become queen?

I had known for some time that I would marry nobility and become lady of some feudal principality. There had been some interested suitors throughout the years, but it had never been serious, and so it had always felt like a distant possibility. I was, after all, barely twenty summers old and still considered somewhat young. Was I ready to be a queen? Was I ready to be a wife?

An unease filled me. It was one thing to fall in love with a man, to ache for his touch and long for his embrace. It was quite another thing to take on ruling a country. The particular man I had fallen in love with was now tasked with rebuilding his own kingdom, a land with an entirely different language and culture than mine. Would I be a worthy partner?

I knew Eomer returned my feelings. Being the honorable man he was, I knew he would speak to my father and ask for my hand. If all he needed was a woman to love and share his bed, I knew I would be equal to that role. But Eomer not only needed a wife, he needed a woman who would rule his kingdom beside him, who would provide wisdom and counsel as he led his people. If love were enough, I would not hesitate. But as it stood, I had barely lived. The war had undoubtedly aged me beyond my twenty years, but what wisdom did I possess to rule a kingdom? I had led the efforts to rebuild Minas Tirith, but what did I truly know about the responsibilities of the crown? How could I possibly go about winning the trust of a country as a foreign queen? I could not bear the possibility of disappointing Eomer.

But I could learn, I'd thought to myself. Surely, I could learn. The transition from princess to queen would be great indeed, but had I not already started to learn the trade of ruling in Dol Amroth? Had I not been entrusted with administrative decisions at our home palace, and now here in Minas Tirith? Did I truly fear myself unequal to the task, or was I only feeling the nerves of taking on a larger role sooner than anticipated?

I considered all this as I took another deep drink from my goblet. I turned away from my view of the Pelennor Fields, and instead leaned my back against the stone wall, looking into the main hall. The doors were wide open, and from my vantage point I could see the throng of people near the entrance. I couldn't see him, but I knew he was in there. We hadn't had a chance to be alone together, and we could only exchange stolen glances through the crowd. I could not tell if I was only being paranoid, but I felt a new reserve in his demeanor. I had still caught him looking at me from time to time, but he had not gone out of his way to stand by my side nor seek an audience with me. It was a far cry from our parting all those weeks ago, or even our reunion earlier that day.

After our men had broken camp at Cormallen, they had arrived earlier that day to tumultuous celebrations. It had taken ages for them to wind their way up the city levels, caught in the mass of the citizens of Minas Tirith ecstatic at their victory. The courtyard beyond the stables of the upper level was packed. I could hardly move in the happy chaos of mothers, wives, and daughters greeting their men. The unbridled frenzy of the surviving soldiers was contagious, and all around me families embraced each other and celebrated the miracle of their survival. I found my father and my brothers in the throng, so overjoyed that I did not mind being jostled by those around me. Through the crowd I could make out Eomer standing with his sister, his arms wrapped around her shoulders. I caught his eye and the grin he gave me made me weak at the knees. My heart started to thump in my chest. Should I go to him? Would he make his way over to me? I tried to find a way forward, but it was too crowded. I could barely hear myself think over the noise and so allowed myself to be pulled away by my family.

As I wound my way through, I felt a rough hand grab my arm and pull me around. I looked up to see Eomer, his gaze resolute and his eyes burning into mine. He was so tall and broad that the crowds had parted to allow him through. We took a moment to just look at each other, and I felt as if my heart was going to pound out of my chest. Someone bumped into me from behind and jostled me forward. I put my hands out and braced myself against Eomer's chest, his hard bulk unmoved. Eomer lifted a hand and threaded it through the hair at the nape of my neck. He brought his head down and rested his forehead against mine, his eyes closed. In that moment, I felt as if the crowd surrounding us had faded away, leaving only the two of us. Our breath mingled, and my whole body craved to be enveloped by him. I could hardly bring myself to do it, but I ached for him to crush me against him and claim my lips the way he had promised those weeks ago in the stables. I felt him press a kiss to my hair, holding me close, and then he pulled away, slowly. We met each other's eyes, the intensity nearly causing me to melt. Eomer's eyes flitted down to my lips, his head bending closer to mine.

And then his eyes slid up to look at something behind me. His posture straightened and his expression became curiously closed. I looked over my shoulder to see Erchirion staring at us, his brows knitted and mouth slightly open in disapproving shock. Embarrassment at having been caught filled me, and I felt my face flush. I knew that my father was aware of… whatever this thing was between myself and Eomer. But I had dreaded the day my brothers would find out. Eomer slowly removed the hand that was threaded through my hair. I turned back to look at him as he brought my hand up to his lips in a chaste kiss.

"Go with your brother," he said to me, his eyes kind but slightly reserved. He turned me gently by the shoulders and pushed me toward my brother. I looked back at him to try to catch his eye, but Eomer didn't meet my gaze. He was clearly looking at Erchirion, his expression resolutely unbothered. I'd been around my brothers enough to know there was a subtle challenge in his expression.

I was not able to linger because at that moment, Erchirion seized my hand and pulled me out of the crowd.

"What was that?" he demanded as he pulled me away.

"What was what?" I responded, suddenly determined to be difficult. I was annoyed at his interruption and did not want to give him the satisfaction of my guilt.

"Don't be daft. Do you know him?"

"Maybe."

"Lothi, don't be daft. When did you meet?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business," I said stiffly. We were now walking at a fast clip toward our family apartments. Whatever joy we had shared moments ago was now replaced by sibling annoyance.

"Answer the damn question, Lothiriel. When did you two meet? Just after the Pelennor?"

"Nearly three years ago."

"What?" Erchirion demanded.

"What do you mean 'what?' I've answered your question. We met nearly three years go."

Erchirion pushed open the doors of our apartments and I marched in. I did not appreciate the barrage of questions.

"Do the two of you have some sort of understanding?" he asked.

"Understanding of what, exactly?"

"'Understanding of what?' Valar help us, maybe you are daft."

I couldn't help but feel annoyed and slightly embarrassed. He had just come back from the impossible march on the Black Gates, and we were now somehow discussing my love interest in the foyer of our apartments. The sound would surely carry down the halls and so I had to shift the conversation away from me.

"Erchirion, there is nothing untoward going on and if you've quite finished accosting me with unnecessary questions, I will remind you that we have just had a devastating war and I am quite glad that you have come back alive, by the way."

Erchirion paused, slightly chastened.

"I'm sorry, Lothi," he said, reaching forward to pull me into his embrace. We stood there for a moment, and I felt some of my ire melt to relief. Truth be told, I was grateful that my brother was still alive and well enough to annoy me.

"He hasn't tried anything inappropriate with you, has he?"

My relief was once again replaced with ire, and so I smacked him upside the head.

"That was uncalled for!" he protested, massaging the spot I had smacked. Behind him I could see my father and Amrothos venturing up the hall to investigate the commotion.

"Is it too much to ask that you two not come to blows right after we've returned from one of the greatest battles of the Age?" my father drawled, clearly unimpressed that we were admittedly behaving like children.

"Are you aware of the attachment between the new King of Rohan and your only daughter?" Erchirion asked, slightly accusatory.

"What?" Amrothos' face wrinkled, clearly caught off guard.

My father sighed. "Leave it alone," he said mildly.

"An attachment?" Amrothos asked for clarification.

"Please stop," I implored, rubbing my hands over my flushed face.

"He was practically accosting her in the courtyard," said Erchirion.

"He was not," I protested.

"Did you know about it?" Erchirion asked my father again.

"Of course I knew," my father replied, a drip of wearied annoyance in his voice.

"Knew what?" Amrothos asked.

"Nothing! There's nothing to know," I insisted, although at this point I realized it was hopeless to pretend otherwise.

"Lothi," Erchirion's voice dripped with incredulity at my lie.

"Erchi," I returned, mocking his tone and using the nickname I knew he hated.

"I suppose I should be thankful that we are back to business as usual," my father sighed.

"Are we talking about Eomer?" Amrothos asked, clearly still trying to catch up.

"Gentlemen," my father said, "to my study, if you please."

My father returned down the hall. Erchirion, arms crossed over his chest, shook his head at me in mocking disapproval, and followed my father. Amrothos looked close to laughter.

"Lothi, are you going to be queen?" he asked, unflattering incredulity seeping into his tone.

"Oh, shut up," I said, blushing as he walked away. My father and my two brothers closed the door to the study behind them.

"By all means, sequester yourselves to have a conversation about me and without my input," I called after them. I knew it was no use barging in, so I merely turned on my heel, muttering "Men," under my breath.

Rather than stew in embarrassment, I decided to turn my attention to the celebration that would take place in the halls of Minas Tirith later that night. We had received word several days in advance of when the company would return to the city and so had begun preparations for the crowning of our new king. I knew everything was in order, but I decided to keep myself occupied.

I was incredibly annoyed with myself that, leading up to the celebrations that night, one of my primary concerns was my choice in wardrobe. It seemed so trite and unimportant, but I found myself agonizing over my options. I kept a number of dresses in Minas Tirith as we were often in the city. I found myself suddenly very concerned about what sort of dress would be eye-catching enough for Eomer, but not too on the nose. We had not had a chance to speak yet and so I was not entirely certain where we stood with one another, but I certainly wanted to catch his attention. But too, we had just had a war and so I could not wear something overly extravagant. I picked out a dusky rose-colored dress of a fine silk material that was simple enough to not be inappropriate given the circumstances. The bodice hugged my waist and the skirts flared out at the hips. The cut was low enough to show some cleavage, but it was still tasteful. My lady's maid in Minas Tirith arranged my hair into a loose knot at the nape of my neck, several tendrils falling out to frame my face. I allowed myself enough vanity to acknowledge that it was rather effective. I hoped that it would inspire in Eomer something similar to what his presence did to me.

To my chagrin, I could not perceive any obvious reaction in him that night. He spent most of the evening surrounded by other soldiers, both of Gondor and Rohan. I recognized one or two of the Rohirrim as part of the company standing outside the Houses of Healing all those weeks ago. I did not know any of their names, but I did notice a couple of them looking over at me, their expressions appraising. I had the distinct sensation of being sized up. I did my utmost to look unbothered.

I was slightly surprised to see Eomer in a lively discussion with my brother Erchirion after all that had transpired earlier that day. Clearly, whatever my father had said to my brother in his study had assuaged his concerns as he clapped a hand on Eomer's shoulder and laughed heartily and whatever he had just said. It had always baffled me how quickly men were able to mend fences, especially since I had the distinct impression that Erchirion had wanted to fight Eomer just a few hours ago.

I tried not to be distracted by Eomer as I half-listened to some Gondorian lord of a minor fiefdom drone on about how his land had avoided the devastation, bragging about having dodged the fighting. I raised a single eyebrow as he spoke, of the opinion that refraining from joining the battles that decided the fate of Middle Earth was hardly something to brag about. I prepared to find an exit from the conversation when I noticed a flash of white-blond hair behind the man's shoulder. I looked past him and saw the lady Eowyn standing at the edge of the crowd, her expression reserved as she stood by herself. As much as she intimidated me, braving her company was far more palatable than spending another minute listening to the ridiculous little man before me. And so I interrupted him mid-sentence and excused myself from his company. It was not delicately done, but I felt my title of princess had earned me certain liberties such that I would not cause him too much offense.

I made my way over to her, grabbing two goblets of wine on my way, and offered one to her as I reached her side. She regarded me with mild surprise.

"I don't believe we have truly met," I said. "I am Faramir's cousin, Lothiriel."

It was perhaps a tad too forthright to introduce myself as Faramir's cousin, since I was sure that they did not have a formal understanding as of yet. The slightest of blushes colored her pale cheeks.

"Yes," she returned, her voice surprisingly resonant. "I have seen you before, in the Houses of Healing." She took the wine goblet from me and nodded her head in thanks. "I am Eowyn, Eomer's sister."

It was now my turn to blush. Did she have some knowledge of our attachment? The small smile teasing her lips was evidence enough.

I cleared my throat, trying to rid myself of any embarrassment. "Well, I am pleased to finally meet you," I said inclining my head.

"And I, you," she responded in kind.

We both took sips of our wine.

"Are you enjoying yourself this evening?" I asked. She smiled wryly.

"Even at home I am not normally one for parties. I confess I find Gondorian society far too staid for my comfort." She turned to look at me. "I apologize if that is too forward."

"Not at all," I assured her. "I understand your meaning. I have been part of Gondorian society my whole life and I am seldom at ease at these gatherings." We exchanged swift smiles before taking sips of our respective wine goblets.

"What are parties like in Rohan?" I asked, curious to learn more of Eomer's homeland.

"Much less formal," Eowyn began. "We had a feast following the siege at Helms Deep that began somber enough, a tribute to those who fell in battle. But our people wasted no time transitioning to something far more raucous."

"Oh, do tell!" I said with interest. "It all sounds rather livelier than anything we have here."

"Well, we have dancing. It's less choreographed than what I've seen here. Certainly faster as well." She grinned mischievously. "There are more opportunities for the men who've set their cap at a lass to hold her closely and spin her on the dance floor."

I laughed. "That would certainly raise eyebrows here."

Eowyn laughed as well. "Yes, I am sure. The men also have a proclivity for drinking games, which is great fun to observe. I am sure the nobility of Gondor would be horrified at the lack of refinery, but it is how we celebrate living another day."

I rolled my eyes. "The nobility of Gondor have a tendency to think too highly of themselves when half of them hardly know whether to hold a sword by the hilt or the blade. I would not take much stock in their good opinion."

Eowyn grinned. "I am sure not all are so bad."

I shrugged. "I suppose I could allow more generosity in my assessment, but after having grown up in the court, I find I have less patience than I should."

"I do not have that excuse," Eowyn said. "I suppose I should make more of an effort tonight especially since we have much to be thankful for, but I find I cannot."

"I am sure the Slayer of the Witch King can be free to do whatever she pleases. And if anyone were to think less of her, that is their own shortcoming."

Eowyn's mouth tightened. She seemed displeased.

"I am not overly fond of that title," she said.

"Why not?" I asked. "It is justly given." She was undeniably one of the heroes of the war. I would not be surprised if the bards had already begun composing ballads of her bravery.

"I am not so certain," she shook her head, her voice quiet and strained. "My motivations were not of the purest kind." She paused, and I waited silently for her to continue. "My countrymen, your countrymen, they fought for the love of their land. I did as well, but more so, I chased glory. Now that I have found it, I find I do not care for it." She shook her head. "To have such motivations I fear does not make me worthy of the praise."

I considered her words for a moment, my brow furrowed. "Does the reason behind your actions truly matter so much?" I challenged her. "You still slaid the Witch King, you still came to our aid and saved countless from a merciless death." Her expression softened slightly. "For my part," I continued, "I am glad you came, whatever your reasons."

Eowyn turned and regarded me for a moment, and then her face broke into the smallest of smiles. It was surprisingly warm, and I found myself returning her smile. Beyond her shoulder I saw Faramir. He had been craning his neck, obviously in search of someone. Once he had spotted us, he grinned and started to make his way through the crowd.

"I see my cousin making his way toward us," I said. I was amused to see Eowyn's eyes widen slightly as she turned to look for herself. "Truth be told, I am quite weary of his company after spending more time that I'd like organizing the rebuilding with him, so I shall beg you to entertain him for me." Eowyn looked back at me, surprised amusement on her face.

"I shall bear this burden as best I can," she rejoined. I heard mirth in her voice for the first time, and I found it refreshing.

"Lady Eowyn," I nodded my head to her in farewell, and then made my way to the doors at the entrance of the hall. I caught Eomer's eye as I walked past him. He had clearly noticed that I had just been in his sister's company. For the first time that evening, his expression was unreservedly tender. It filled my whole body with warmth to once again be on the receiving end of his knee-weakening gaze. I returned a small smile, but then continued my path toward the terrace, hoping he would catch my hint and follow me there shortly.

And so here I was, leaning my back against the ramparts with my elbows resting on the wall, my head tilted back to look up at the night sky. The cool breeze rustled the silken skirts of my dress and I waited, hoping Eomer would join me before long.

I heard the crunch of boots on gravel and somehow I knew it would be him. I tilted my head down from the sky and there he was, dressed in a dark green tunic and brown britches. His leather jerkin strained across his broad shoulders, and his ever-present sword rested at his hip. He was tall, broad, and breathtaking. My stomach flipped at the sight of him.

He came to stand next to me, leaning his elbows on the wall and looking out over the Pelennor Fields. He turned his head and regarded me, a small smile on his lips. His eyes flitted down my form and back up to my face before turning back to look out over the fields.

"Lovely dress," he murmured, his voice warm and low.

"You think so?" I asked, pleased he had noticed.

"Truth be told, lass, you'd likely look fetching enough in a sack," he said ruefully. I snorted at the compliment.

"So," he began, "what brings you out here? Had enough of the festivities already?"

I shook my head, "No, it is more that Gondorian nobility are overly fond of their perfume and it's so overbearing in that enclosed space. I merely desired the remedy of fresh air."

Eomer huffed in amusement. "I tend to agree with you. I don't know what would induce a grown man to wear a floral scent."

"It does call into question the validity of a few marriages," I said jokingly.

Eomer's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You spend too much time with your brothers."

"I could not agree more," I said, laughing.

We spent a few moments in companionable silence leaning against the barrier, I facing within and Eomer facing without.

"It is strange to see the fields thus," Eomer said, his expression contemplative. "To see them quiet and empty."

"Yes," I agreed, the tone of our conversation turning toward a more serious bent. The stillness of the night and the stars above made me feel like I could ask him or say anything at that moment. I regarded him silently as he looked out over the fields. What was he seeing? Was he remembering the battle? Perhaps thinking of the fellow soldiers he had lost out there in the fields?

"Are you alright?" I asked him carefully.

"Pardon?" Eomer regarded me, his eyebrow quirked.

"I know you are a warrior and these were hardly your first battles, but… the cost…" I drifted off, thinking of the cousin and the uncle he had lost.

Eomer sighed heavily, understanding my meaning. "Aye, the cost." He stared down at his hands for a moment. "The cost has been great indeed," he said, almost to himself. "I feel the loss of my countrymen, of my cousin and my uncle keenly. I feel the loss of their counsel, especially now that I am in great need of it. But to fall in battle in defense of your home is the highest honor. It is a sacrifice none would regret." He paused. His tone seemed sincere enough, but I struggled to comprehend how readily he was able to accept their deaths. He took a breath and continued. "The only regret I have is for the lives lost because we did not arrive sooner to fight on behalf of those who could not. The villagers, the farmers, their families. The ones we did not save in time. That is the only sting that will not wane." He sighed and looked up at me, his eyes open and sincere. "But the grief I carry for my cousin and my uncle, that I can bear well enough."

We regarded each other as I took in his words. There was no trace of bitterness in his voice, and I was moved that he would speak so plainly with me. It felt more intimate than any of the stolen embraces we had shared.

"What do you think of becoming king?" I asked. It was, I suppose, a very personal question, but I knew he would not be offended in the slightest.

Eomer chuckled humorlessly. "It is certainly not a mantle I had anticipated taking up," he answered. "I feel more at ease leading an Eored than leading a country. I shall just have to find a way." He looked at me, smiling. "What of you?" he asked me. I raised my eyebrows, surprised by the question.

"What of me?" I returned.

"Are you alright?"

"Oh," I said, considering my answer. "Well, I have survived this war with my father and all three of my brothers. I have every reason to be grateful." I paused, thinking back over the terror of the siege, the long nights in the Houses of Healing, the utter loss I had witnessed as we began our restoration efforts, doing my best to arrange for the care of the widows and orphans left behind. Truly, I had to count myself among the most fortunate of the survivors.

My thoughts turned to my cousin Boromir. He was over twenty years my senior and so was more of an indulgent uncle to me than a cousin. We were not overly close, but he had always been kind to me.

"I do grieve my cousin, Boromir," I said quietly. "But as you said, to give one's life in defense of your country is a great honor for a soldier. He died protecting the halflings to whom we all owe the debt of our freedom, and so I know he died with honor. But I do grieve for him."

"And your uncle?" Eomer asked. I regarded him carefully. He was listening attentively, and I felt I could be honest enough without him misunderstanding me. I thought of my Uncle Denethor, of how he had soured over the years. He frightened me when I was a little girl, and I did all I could to avoid his company during my visits to Minas Tirith.

I licked my lips and began quietly, "Please do not think of me poorly when I say that the grief I feel is only for that of losing my kinfolk. There is no love lost."

Eomer nodded slowly, considering me. "I have met your uncle. I did not know him well, but well enough to not think any less of you."

I looked down at the goblet in my hands, recalling how Denethor's reticence in the face of our enemies had come so close to costing us everything.

"He nearly killed us all," I whispered. Eomer straightened, reaching out to stroke my cheek with his knuckles. I shivered at the sensation, my thoughts turning away from the recollection of the terrible siege and instead blossoming with far more pleasant albeit inappropriate imaginations involving Eomer.

"The darkness is gone, lass," Eomer said, his eyes impossibly warm as his fingers lingered on my cheek. "Do not think of such things longer than you must."

How to tell him that I most certainly was not thinking of the darkness anymore? How could I tell him that instead, I was thinking that I would quite like for him to grab my wrist and pull me into the gardens beyond the courtyard where we might have a few stolen moments together. That curious throbbing had begun between my legs, and I was sure that between the two of us he would know exactly how to remedy it.

Of course, I did not suggest any of this. Instead, I brought the goblet of wine to my lips and drained it with a final gulp. Eomer gave a small huff of amusement and reached out, taking the empty goblet from my hands.

"Speaking of my new kingship, you perhaps have more experience ruling than I do," he said. I laughed in surprise, as I had not expected this observation.

"Do I?" I asked, my eyebrows raised.

"Aye, indeed," he responded, smiling with humor.

"How do you figure?" I asked, curious what he would say.

"You are princess of a great fiefdom, your father has said that much of the day to day ruling of the palace is left to your authority," he listed. His smile turned mischievous. "I hear giving orders comes naturally for you."

I rolled my eyes. "You have been listening to slander from my brothers. I can assure you that they are not reliable sources."

"And your cousin Faramir?"

I paused, slightly surprised. "What has he said?"

"That the restoration of the city is largely due to your efforts."

"He exaggerates," I said. "He has done much as well."

"Merely helped implement a system you had already put into place, according to him. And it was well done," Eomer said, looking around. "A far cry from the rubble and ruin that we left weeks ago. Supply chains restored to feed the populace; boys too young to ride to battle given gainful employment in the reconstruction efforts. Lothiriel, what you have accomplished is no small feat."

I felt myself glowing at his praise. He was regarding me with clear admiration, his tone sincere and impressed. In the flush of embarrassment, I felt I had to deflect in some way.

"I was hardly working alone," I insisted. "These have been the efforts of a great many of us."

"Spoken like a true leader," Eomer said, his tone laced with approval. My face grew even hotter, if possible. I could barely muster a pleased scoff.

Eomer's grin widened. "You are embarrassed by praise," he noted.

"I am not."

"You are blushing."

"A trick of the light," I returned, but my smile betrayed me.

Eomer threw back his head in laughter. I had never heard him laugh fully before. I drank in the sight of him. His smiles had always been slight, even mischievous. But this was the first time I had seen him smile without any reserve. I loved it more than anything I had seen before.

Eomer leaned back against the barrier, facing the crowd within the hall. He was silent for a moment, and then he spoke, "You would make a fine queen."

My eyes widened, startled by the suggestion.

"Would I?" I asked.

"I think so."

My heart pounded. This was the closest we had ever come to speaking plainly about a future together.

I wetted my lips. "I don't know how equal I would be to the task," I admitted. I'd had so many doubts swirling in my head, I felt the need to voice them.

"A dose of self-doubt is necessary," Eomer said, his tone reassuring. "You cannot be worthy of leadership if you are so self-assured that you never seek the counsel of others. At a certain point, there is nothing to do but find a path forward, despite all doubts."

We stood in silence for a moment as I considered his words.

"Queen of what, exactly," I asked.

We turned to look at each other, slow grins spreading across our faces.

"I may know of an open role," he said, his voice deep and intimate, "should you be interested."

My breath hitched. I felt emotion welling up within me, a happiness beyond anything I had ever felt spreading from my chest and stretching to my limbs. Surely he was speaking of us, offering me the role of his wife and queen. I somehow understood that tonight was not the night for us to speak plainly with each other, but I also knew that he had decided on me, that I was his, and there was no question that our futures were fused together.

Eomer straightened and stepped toward me, his eyes tender, and cupped my cheek with his hand. His thumb swiped at moisture I had not realized had collected at the corner of my eye. We held each other's gaze as his hand shifted down to cup my jaw. His eyes flitted down to my mouth and my lips parted. His thumb pulled gently at my bottom lip. My eyes drifted close and my chest heaved.

"Look at me," he whispered. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. His eyebrows were furrowed with intensity as he regarded me. I noticed that he was also breathing heavily. His hand shifted to cup the back of my neck, drawing me closer to him. I lifted my face in anticipation, ready to cross the scant inches to meet his lips.

A peal of raucous laughter startled us apart. A group of men engaged in a lively debate were making their way onto the terrace. They were far enough away to not make out who we were, but it was enough to remind us that we were not alone.

Eomer took a step back and passed a hand over his face as if to brush something off. I stayed where I was, braced against the wall as I composed myself and calmed my breath. Eomer sighed, his eyes drifting over my form before returning to my face.

"Truly, lass," he said, his eyebrows raised in appreciation, "you look well tonight."

I smiled breathlessly, a pleased flush coloring my face.

"Come," Eomer said to me, "there is a celebration within. We cannot tarry for much longer."

"You go," I said, not quite feeling ready to face the crowd after having come to close to finally kissing him. "I shall linger a bit longer."

"You are sure?" Eomer asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Yes."

"Do not linger for too long, or your brother will accuse me of having done something unsavory," he grinned.

I laughed. "I have no doubt. I shall be in shortly," I reassured him.

Eomer placed a courtly kiss to my hand before retreating towards the hall. I suddenly felt the urge to remind him of something.

"Before you left," I called after him, "You said you would claim something upon your return."

"Oh, I haven't forgotten," he called back over his shoulder, sneaking a quick wink before continuing on his way.

Later that night, when I had snuck away from the last lingering revelers to change out of my dress and slip into my bed, I dreamt of the moment when Eomer would finally claim a kiss from me. I had to satisfy myself with imagining his rough hands stroking over my form, his warms lip ghosting over my body, imagining how he would finally bring me the release I craved so deeply.

I was determined to be patient. I could wait to have him.

---

That patience lasted all of twelve hours. I had awoken feeling restless and unsatisfied. The pent-up frustration welled within me as I sat through counsels that day, meeting with our new liege and bringing him up to speed on the progress made in his absence. Truly, I should have been ashamed that my impure thoughts of Eomer were intruding upon far more important matters, such as the additional support needed for the widows and orphans of the fallen warriors. I fought to keep such thoughts at bay as King Elessar, my cousin Faramir, my father, and I studied the ledgers Uncle Denethor's keeper of accounts had surrendered to me earlier. I had needed Faramir's influence to finally sway him, undoubtedly because he knew that the ledgers contained evidence of less than savory accounting decisions.

"As you can see," I pointed to one of the large, dusty books opened on the king's desk, "a portion of the sums normally reserved to compensate the widows had been siphoned off for the renovation and expansion of the kingly tombs."

"Indefensible," the king muttered, clearly disgusted. He suddenly looked up at Faramir, clearly concerned he had spoken out of turn.

"My brother," he began his apology, "I…"

"No apology is needed," Faramir spoke over him. His arms were crossed and his expression was stony, his ire evidently directed at his late father's actions. "It is indefensible."

"I am in agreement," I said. "Of course, I do not think the late steward understood that the population of widows would multiply so quickly, but my lord I do suggested that we immediately restore that sum to its proper account, and even redirect the entirety of the budget reserved for the tombs to further aid the city's widows and reconstruct the homes that still need rebuilding."

"Agreed," King Elessar nodded his head. "I thank you for bringing this to my attention, my lady. I shall spend some time reviewing the ledgers to see what else may be uncovered."

"Of course," I said. "And may I suggest perhaps finding a new keeper of accounts? One whose values and aspirations for the city would more closely align with yours?"

Kind Elessar smiled ruefully. "Yes, I believe that would be prudent." He looked up at me, his look appreciative. "Have you anyone in mind? I fear it will take me time to assess who I could entrust with such a task."

"My lord, I am sure Faramir, or even my father would be quick to provide suggestions," I said, nodding to the two of them.

"I am sure, but I would like your opinion all the same."

I paused, somewhat surprised at his request, but pleased as well. "I shall provide you with a list of names this afternoon," I said, smiling.

"I thank you, my lady." He held out his hand to clasp mine. It was perhaps a bit forward for Gondorian society, but it was clearly a gesture of respect and nothing more. Also, he was quite enough older than I for there to be any question of impropriety.

"I owe you my gratitude," he continued, "for the work you have done in our absence. You do yourself credit, my lady."

"I was glad to be of some use, my lord," I said, uncomfortable as always with praise. "My skillset does not lend itself to the battlefield, so I had to find my own way to contribute."

"Believe me, it is of no less significance. There is no purpose for our battles if we do not begin the arduous work of rebuilding and restoring our way of life. Truly, well done, my lady."

I blushed and inwardly cursed my fair skin. I was too embarrassed to say anything, so I merely nodded my head and gave a quick curtsey by way of thanks. Behind me, my father laughed.

"One thing I may say of my children, King Elessar, is that you will never get them to accept a compliment."

The king laughed. "A family trait I am starting to notice," he said with good humor. I did not know our new king well enough to deliver the rejoinder I so wished to send my father's way, so instead I stepped back and cleared my throat.

"If it pleases you, my lord, I shall put together a list of names for you. There are several members of the late steward's council who were more helpful than others, as well some new names who proved themselves useful these past few weeks," I said, my tone all business.

"That would be most welcome, I thank you my lady," the king said, eyes still twinkling. I gave a general, shallow curtsey to the room before making my way to the door of the study. My father immediately began a discussion with the king, directing his attention to one of the ledgers. My cousin, however, lingered by the door.

"Well done, Lothi," he said.

"Why are you complimenting me?" I said, for some reason feeling accusatory. "You did half the work."

Faramir raised his hands in mock surrender. "My, you truly are worthless at accepting any form of praise. Or is there another reason for your shortness?" he asked, his tone suddenly teasing.

"What do you mean?" I asked. Our voices were low so as not to draw attention to ourselves.

"Has something put you out of sorts today? Or someone?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Faramir, speak plainly or don't speak at all. I haven't the time."

"Visited any horselords today?"

I started at him, brows furrowed and mouth slightly open.

"How-?"

"Lothiriel, it's hardly a mystery at this point," he said, laughing. "The two of you are easy to pick out, especially at night on a nearly deserted terrace."

The pent-up frustration that had been stirring within me all day hardly helped me keep my patience.

"Faramir, have you visited any warrior princesses today?" I asked, hoping I could rattle his composure.

"Not yet," he said, his tone light, "but the day is still young." He paused, looking at me. "Why, were you hoping to catch me off guard? I have nothing to be embarrassed about. I don't blush as easily as you do."

I took a deep breath.

"Your company tires me, and so I will now take my leave of you," I said as primly as I could, reaching for the door.

"Lothi," he said, clearly trying to contain his mirth, "if you were interested in finding a particular Rohir, I heard him say that he planned to check on Firefoot after his council with his captains this morning. Something about an issue with his gait, I'm not sure."

I pursed my lips. "If I were to see him, shall I mention anything regarding your intensions toward his younger sister?"

Faramir's mirth cooled and his face became stony.

"Okay, get out," he said, opening the door for me. I smirked teasingly at him, feeling triumphant.

The glow of my small victory over Faramir faded quickly and my thoughts turned to Eomer. I understood that decorum called for me to be demure, but the nearness of his physical presence caused a desperate longing within me that was bound to burst at any moment. Whatever need I had felt for him over the years had now grown into a desperation. I was sure that Eomer, being who he seemed to be, would be determined to do things honorably and properly. He had formed a close friendship with my father and had won the respect of my brothers. But I found that I did not want him to do things properly. I did not care two wits about my honor. Instead, the desperation for him to grab me by the waist and pull me into some secluded alcove nearly overwhelmed me. I knew nothing about lovemaking beyond the pure mechanics of it, but my imagination was healthy enough to envision all the things he could do to me. I shivered at the possibility that there were some things he would know to do to me that even I couldn't imagine. But to be sure, he would do no such thing until after we were wed. The frustration I felt was so strong I hardly knew whether to throw something at him or try to seduce him.

I snorted. As if I would know anything about seducing a man. I could tell that Eomer was affected by my presence, and I sensed that at times he was exerting a great deal of self-restraint around me. I had no idea how best to use that to my advantage, but I thought at the very least I was entitled to a kiss. Surely, it was not uncommon for young people in love to share a kiss even before being troth plighted.

Yes, I decided, it was within my rights to seek one out. Had he not promised me one before he had left for the Black Gates? Before long, I found that my feet were taking me in the direction of the stables. I thought it best to seek him out before I lost my nerve. And so my pace quickened as I wove my way down to the courtyard leading to the stables. As I neared the entrance, I nearly collided with one of the tall, blond Rohirrim.

"Forgive me, my lady," he said in accented Westron, his large hands steadying my shoulders.

"Please, do not apologize," I assured him, smoothing my skirts. "I should have paid closer attention to where I was walking." I looked up at him and recognized him as one of the horselords I had often seen with Eomer. He was one of company who had clearly been assessing me last night. He seemed to be a few years older than Eomer, but he bore a similar power and self-possession.

"Are you well? You seem to be in great haste," he said, his brows knitted with concern.

"No," I said, smiling and slightly chagrined. "No, I… I tend to walk quickly," I said. "Truly, I am well."

He nodded slowly, his expression shrewd. It seemed that he did not entirely believe me. He quickly looked over his shoulder at the entrance of the stables, the direction where I was clearly headed.

"Sir, I recognize your face but I do not think we have met before. I am Lothiriel of Dol Amroth, daughter of Imrahil," I said.

"Aye," he nodded, some humor seeping into his eyes, "aye, I am aware. I am Elfhelm, Marshal of the Eastmark." He bowed to me, and I inclined my head to him.

"Well, Marshal Elfhelm, I do hope you and your countrymen have everything you need during your stay here. If there is anything at all lacking, I would of course arrange for it to be remedied."

"Oh, we are all getting on fine, my lady," he said. "Your man Gonodir has helped arrange our lodging and meals. Nothing lacking."

"I am glad to hear of it. Still, please do let me know if there is anything else that would ease your time here. We are all cognizant of the debt we owe to our brothers of the North."

Elfhelm inclined his head. "You do us honor, my lady."

Our exchange was courteous and proper, but the careful, assessing look in his eye made me feel uneasy. I felt no threat, but I did feel keenly that he was a man who did not miss much. Did he know anything of what had transpired between myself and his new king? Was he assessing someone who would possibly become his queen?

"Well," I said, hoping to maintain some control of our exchange, "I shall not keep you any longer. I am glad to have met you."

"Yes," he said, bowing slightly. "Well met, my lady."

He began to walk past me but then slowed to a stop and turned around. "Ah, if you are looking for Eomer King, he is indeed within the stables," he said, pointing ahead of me.

I flushed, feeling as though I had been caught. Elfhelm's expression to one of careful impassivity, but there was a mirth in his eyes that was difficult to miss. I could not help but allow a rueful grin to break through.

"Very astute, Marshal Elfhelm, I thank you."

The mirth in his eyes grew as he inclined his head to me and spun on his heel to walk away. He had not left the courtyard before he threw back his head and let out a singular bark of laughter.

Wonderful, I groaned inwardly.

I pushed my way through the entrance of the stable doors. The familiar smell of horse, hay, and leather filled my nostrils and calmed my nerves. The stables were active, a number of stable boys mucking out stalls, several Gondorians and Rohirrim alike brushing down their horses or mending their tacks. A few of the Gondorians recognized me as I made my way through the stables, pausing to give a slight bow. Some of the Rohirrim regarded me as well, a few giving me nods of greeting. I felt somewhat self-conscious that the Rohirrim obviously recognized me but then reasoned that perhaps it was best if they got used to seeing me.

As I neared the stall that I knew contained Eomer's steed, I heard two male voices conversing in rapid Rohirric. I did not feel overly inclined to interrupt, and so I moved past Firefoot's stall to Bane's, which was located opposite and two stalls beyond, affording me enough of a view of Eomer.

Bane poked his head out to greet me.

"Hello, old boy," I said lowly, reaching up to scratch him fondly between the ears. "Fancy a quick ride tomorrow?"

In all the chaos of the siege and the rebuilding, it had been too dangerous to take the horses out of their stalls. Now that some semblance of order had been restored to the city and the surrounding fields, the stable boys were working double time to exercise the horses who had felt decidedly cooped up. As I had been occupied with the restoration, I had not had much chance to see to Bane myself. I had given as detailed instructions as I could to one of the stable boys I trusted the most on how exactly to care for him.

Bane seemed to be in fine form, and I made a mental note to give the stable boy a raise. As Bane nuzzled into my hand, I looked over my shoulder to peer at Eomer. He was within Firefoot's stall, conversing with another of the Rohirrim. The other man was running a hand down the horse's flank, clearly pointing something out to Eomer. Eomer's arms were crossed over his chest as he listened to the other man, brows stern and nodding in agreement to something he said before responding in kind. There was something compelling about hearing him speak in Rohirric. The language was lilting and slightly rough. Hearing his voice work over the foreign words excited me for some reason.

Eomer must have felt my gaze for he looked up at that moment and caught my eye. I flushed, but didn't look away. I gave him a small smile that he returned along with a quick wink. My smile widened and my flush deepened. I turned back to Bane and decided to wait. I did not much feel like seeking out my kiss from Eomer while he was in the company of this other man.

I half-listened to the conversation behind me, not understanding a word but still relishing the sound of Eomer's voice. I heard something that sounded like a conclusion to their conversation and a moment later, heard the creak of the stall gate opening and the other man calling out a farewell. I waited a few more moments, not wanting to seem too eager.

"Lothiriel," Eomer called. I looked over my shoulder. He smiled very slightly and jerked his head for me to approach him. With a last pat to Bane's neck, I walked over to Firefoot's stall, both hands clasping at the top of the gate. Eomer picked up one of my hands and dropped a chaste kiss to my knuckles before leaning against the gate, one elbow draped over it.

"The stables seem to be one of our favored meeting spots," he remarked.

"So they seem," I agreed. "Is Firefoot well?"

"Aye," Eomer nodded, turning to look at his horse who was now munching on hay. "There's a slight straight to his gait, but nothing a few days of rest and easy exercise won't cure. Still, I wanted to get a second opinion from Holdred," he said, jutting his chin toward the entrance of the stables, clearly referring to the man he had just been speaking with. "His father raises horses and so he has some specialized knowledge. In fact, he in Folcred's son."

"Is he really?" I asked, intrigued.

"Aye. He remembers your lad Bane as well. He was one of his favorites and was glad to see him in such fine stables as these."

"It appears Bane certainly knows how to make an impression," I said, pleased that my dear old horse was so popular.

"Holdred was certainly surprised that Bane is now ridden by a little Gondorian princess," Eomer teased. I raised an eyebrow.

"A little Gondorian princess?" I repeated drolly.

"His words," Eomer said, raising his hands in mock surrender as Faramir had done earlier that day. "Even in the Mark it is rare for a stout lad such as Bane to be ridden by a young woman."

"I hardly know whether I should feel complimented or offended."

"Take it as a compliment," Eomer said.

"I suppose I shall."

We smiled at each other for a moment. Eomer reached out and squeezed one of my hands before straightening and picking up one of the brushes hanging next to him. He set about grooming Firefoot while I watched. I had come here with the singular goal of finally claiming a kiss from him, but I hardly knew how to go about it. I was also very much aware that we were not entirely alone, although the nearest person was at least five stalls away.

"Anything on your mind, Lothiriel?" Eomer asked without looking at me. He must have sensed that my mind was working overtime on something.

"No," I said. "Nothing in particular."

He fixed me with an unbelieving look.

"You have a line," he said, reaching out a finger to touch me between the eyes before returning to his task, "just there. Surely you must be thinking of something."

"Or maybe I just have lines," I said, for some reason deciding to be difficult. Eomer straightened up and faced me fully, his expression decidedly unbelieving.

"Out with it, lass," he said.

I took a steadying breath.

"I was thinking of us," I said quickly.

A slow, dangerous smile broke out across Eomer's face. "Indeed?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Yes," I confirmed, swallowing.

"What about us?" he asked. His tone was low and playful, causing my stomach to flip. He returned to brushing Firefoot's flank, the smallest of smirks playing across his face. I would have thought that such smug confidence would annoy me, but instead it only caused my heart to beat painfully in my chest.

"I have thought of us often, ever since we first met those years ago," I began, remembering how the sight of Eomer had struck me to my core. "I had no idea who you were. I gleaned what information I could over the years. The way my heart would speed up every time your name was mentioned by my father or brothers," I said, laughing at the memory of it. Eomer looked up at me, fixing me with a warm smile.

"I thought of you, too," he said softly, still brushing Firefoot. "Truth be told, I tried to not be carried away by it. I did not want to deal with the torment of perhaps reading some announcement of a betrothal."

"Really?" I asked. "You thought of me?"

Eomer gave a small huff of amusement and fixed me with a look of mild incredulity. "This is a surprise, is it?"

"Well," I said, a pleased flush coloring my cheeks, "I didn't want to assume…"

"Assume away, my lady," he said ruefully. "I thought of you often."

I could barely contain my grin. "And now?"

Another huff of amusement from Eomer. "Truly, Lothiriel, even now are you in any doubt that I think of you?"

I rolled my eyes, but my smile grew, "You can hardly blame me from wanting to hear of it, my lord."

"Then yes," he said, fully grinning in amusement. "Yes, Lothiriel, I still think of you now. Even more than I did in the years between our first two meetings.

"Good," I said, very much pleased. I heard a low chuckle of amusement from Eomer. He walked around to switch sides, fixing me with a teasing grin before resuming brushing Firefoot.

I looked down at my hands, my heart beating. I was pleased to know that he thought of me, but I had to say more. I had to bare more of myself to him. If I had any chance of getting him to touch me, of getting him to cross that barrier of propriety and assuage the intense longing I felt for him, I had to say more.

I sneaked a glance up at him. His eyes were fixed on his task, but he still had a small smile on his face. I looked down either end of the stable, ensuring we had some semblance of privacy.

I licked my lips.

"I think of you at night," I said, my voice low. "When I am in bed."

There was a pause in the rhythmic sound of the brush gliding over Firefoot's flank. I glanced up at Eomer again. He had frozen in his movements, his brow slightly furrowed, processing what I had said along with all the implications.

In my mind, I pictured all the nights I had touched myself, all the nights I had thought of him and yearned for him to be beside me, on top of me, within me. How I physically ached to have him take me by the hands and lead me to his bed, to touch me in all the places I had touched myself.

I thought of all this as I watched him within the stall. He lowered his arms slowly, straightened up, and tilted his head to regard me. His brows were furrowed, but he was not displeased. His breathing was slightly heavier than normal.

Have I shocked him? I wondered.

I looked down at my hands for a moment, and then looked back up to meet his eyes. I pleaded with him to understand my meaning, but surely the flush across my cheeks was evidence enough of my thoughts.

No, I decided, I needed to be even clearer.

"Eomer, you," I licked my lips again, "you cause this ache within me that I don't completely understand. I have tried in vain, but I cannot find relief from it. Even now," I said, not caring that desperation had seeped into my voice, "even now I feel it, and I…"

Eomer raised a hand to stop me. I paused in my speech. I could see that he was not angry with me, not in the slightest. He was looking at me with such intensity, lips parted and breathing heavily. He took a deep breath as if to steady himself. Slowly, so slowly, he hung up the brush and moved to the stall door. I took a few steps back, allowing him space to step without and into the hall of the stables. Just as the day he left me to march on the Black Gates, I felt some of my confidence wane now that we did not have the barrier of the gate between us.

Eomer paused, looking to the right and the left of him at the other occupants of the stables. His brows were furrowed and his mind seemed to be working, assessing how much could be addressed here in this less that private place. For the first time since I had known him, he looked as if he was not absolutely certain of what to do next.

I dreaded that I would hear some admonition from him, some sort of reproach for speaking of something so intimate, so suggestive. Even I had to acknowledge that what I had said to him was beyond the pale. I was not knowledgeable of Rohirric customs, but by Gondorian standards I had all but ruined myself by making such a declaration. I knew it was not proper for a young, unmarried woman to speak of such carnal desires or even to acknowledge them, but I found that I did not care. He had to know. And I knew that I could trust him.

"Lothiriel," he said. He wasn't looking at me but was instead looking at the men milling about the stables. "Where can we go?" He turned and looked at me, his expression intense and focused. "Where can we go where we will not be overheard?"

"There are the gardens," I nearly whispered, "private gardens, only for the families at the top level, by the tower. No one will be there."

"Take me there," Eomer demanded.

I nodded, and turned to exit the stables, Eomer following closely behind me. My body thrummed in anticipation, not knowing if he was planning to kiss me senseless once we reached the gardens or scold me for being so bold. He did not touch me, but I felt his steady presence, his warmth behind me. A number of his men called out greetings to him, inclining their heads in respect of their king. Eomer acknowledged them with short greetings of his own but did not slow his pace as he followed me out. I noticed that a few of his men regarded us curiously. I suppose it was obvious that we were leaving the stables together. The intensity between us was so strong that I was sure it must have been noticed by them.

We walked in silence up to the top level, our pace purposeful. As we reached the stone wall of the gardens, I ran my fingers over one of the loose stones in the wall, unearthing a key. Eomer raised a single eyebrow as I fixed the key in the lock of the door leading to the gardens.

"No one is officially allowed within the gardens save the steward and those he invites directly," I explained, "but I know where the spare key is kept."

"I am not the least bit surprised," Eomer said drolly, following me through the door.

I had always loved sneaking into the gardens as a child. It was lush and quiet, filled with old trees with gnarled branches, flowering bushes and fountains. I had only been caught once when I was fourteen but had managed to escape any serious censure at having entered without the express invitation of my uncle.

Eomer followed me to a particular spot in the garden I happened to love. A large oak tree dominated the spot, flanked by two benches. I slowed to a stop and turned to face him. He was regarding me with that same intensity from the stables. His brow was furrowed and his eyes were fixed on mine. I got the sense that he still somehow was not entirely sure of what to do or say next.

I was suddenly very much aware that we were well and truly alone. I knew that no one would enter the gardens. Years of trespassing had taught me that the attendants only worked in the cool of the morning. I also knew that there were no apartments with views into the garden. No one would see us, and no one would hear us. The possibility of complete privacy thrilled me. I felt myself shivering in anticipation as adrenaline coursed through me. Here now was the perfect opportunity. Would I be bold enough to close the distance between us and demand his lips on mine? Would he ensnare me in his arms, burying his face in my neck? Perhaps shaping his hands over my breasts? Would he lift my skirts, touching me in that place where I felt the most acute wanting of him? Would he loosen his self-control enough to have me, right here in the gardens?

"Lothiriel," Eomer said, his voice strained. "Please, stop looking at me like that." He swept a hand over his face. "I am trying my utmost, here."

"I'm not looking at you in any particular way," I said breathlessly. Eomer huffed, shaking his head.

"You cannot see your own face, love, but it is all I can do to keep myself in check."

"You don't have to," I said hopefully. "You don't need to keep yourself in check."

Eomer laughed and covered his face with his hands, groaning. The sounds went straight to my center. He took a fortifying breath and looked at me, his expression determined.

"Alright," he said, his tone businesslike. "You, sit here," he said, his voice commanding. He pointed imperiously at the bench beneath the oak. I sat down obediently, my eyes still trained on his face.

"Good," he nodded. "And I will sit here," he said, sitting on the bench opposite mine. At least five feet separated us from one another. "You will remain there," he said, eyebrows raised and once again pointing at me imperiously, "and I will remain here until we can work this out."

"What are we working out?" I asked.

"I'm getting to that," he said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees while he considered me. I waited in silence. I had done quite enough talking and was eager to hear what he had to say. As I regarded him, I could not help but feel amused at the state he was in. He was fixing me with such a hard but uneasy look that I couldn't help but feel incredulous that I had caused such distress.

"Sir, have I truly discomposed you?" I asked, my eyebrows raised in teasing amusement.

"No, none of that," Eomer said shortly, striking his hand in a motion to cut me off. I made a show of biting my lips which caused Eomer to roll his eyes and grin reluctantly.

He took another breath. "Lothiriel," he began, his tone serious. "It is my intension to speak to your father and ask his permission to make you my wife."

I glowed at his words. "We hardly know each other," I said, though I truly did not care.

"We do," Eomer returned, "well enough."

"What if there are things you won't like about me?" I asked.

"Lothiriel, I guarantee you that there will be plenty of things you won't like about me," he said. "But I still want you as my wife."

I paused, letting his works sink in.

"I would like that very much," I said quietly. A slow grin broke out over Eomer's face. "Do you truly think I will make a good queen?" I asked.

"I do," Eomer said without hesitation. "It is no small task. Ruling will be new for me as well, and so I have thought of a solution. A way to ease the transition for you."

"You have?"

"Yes, I've given it a lot of thought, actually. We will be troth plighted after my uncle's funeral. I would like to bury his body and allow my people their time to grieve."

"Of course," I said quickly, nodding in agreement.

"I need time to restore my homeland, to earn the confidence of my people." Eomer paused before taking another deep breath. "We would be wed a year following our betrothal."

"A year," I repeated, not at all pleased with the timeline.

"Lothiriel, I would wed you this hour. But we are not the only ones to consider here. I must also convince your father to consent to it."

"Oh," I waived my hand dismissively, "I'm certain he'd be all to eager to see me married off as soon as possible."

"Under the terms I've presented, perhaps he would, but anything less, I'm not so sure." Eomer frowned, eyeing me closely. "Lothiriel, you are young, and I am nearly ten years your senior. You have never been to Rohan, and you would be inheriting a great task with considerable hurdles by becoming queen of a foreign land. That is not to say that I will not be by your side to help you, but you must admit that your father will have concerns that our desire to wed is merely the effect of having been swept up by the desperation we felt during the war."

"Is it though?" I asked quickly. "Is it just the effect of the war?"

"Of course not," Eomer said, waving a hand impatiently. "But it is not just our opinion that matters, it is also your father's." Eomer paused, a mischievous grin creeping out. "Also, this may be the only way to go about this without Erchirion challenging me to a duel."

"Oh," I said, now waiving my own hand with impatience. "He's all talk, he wouldn't actually."

Eomer made an unconvinced noise. "I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss it. He nearly came close to it the night we returned to the city."

"Truly?" I asked. I had always been curious how things had transpired between them.

Eomer smiled ruefully. "Well, your father said much to assuage Erchirion's concerns so we were able to get over things tolerably well, but I don't know if that will work a second time. I am not overly concerned," he said, a very self-satisfied grin gracing his features. "I just don't think that laying your brother out will do much to endear me to you."

"First of all," I said, holding up a finger "you overestimate my concern for my brother." Eomer snorted. "And second of all," I continued, holding up a second finger, "you, sir, sound incredibly confident."

"I assure you, madam, that my confidence is not unfounded," Eomer returned with a sardonically raised eyebrow. "Regardless of your lack of concern for your brother's wellbeing, I'd rather not have to convince him that I have not taken any liberties with you."

"Well," I began, somewhat slyly, "would you like to?"

Eomer started, then let out a breathless chuckle. "What?" he asked, eyebrows raised in surprised amusement.

"Eomer," I said playfully, "would you like to take any liberties with me? I wouldn't say no."

"Bema, lass," Eomer said, wiping a hand over his eyes, mouth cracked open in a wide grin. "You will be the death of me. Are you trying to seduce me?"

"Is it working?"

"Lothiriel, enough," said Eomer, trying to sound stern but utterly failing. "As I said earlier, I only have so much self-restraint."

"How close am I to the limit?"

"Lothiriel, you are the limit."

"Sir, need I remind you that you promised me something upon your return to me," I said eyebrows raised. "I intend to collect that debt."

Eomer regarded me with a pleased grin. I was thrilled that he had all but outright admitted that I had an effect on him, that he needed to exert considerable self-control to keep himself in line around me. It made me feel powerful in a way that was thoroughly enjoyable.

"How could I forget?" he said quietly, his eyes softening as he looked upon me.

Eomer stood slowly, and the playful grin on my face dropped. My breath hitched as he walked toward me, reaching his hands out to clasp mine and hauling me up to stand before him. He peered down at my face, his eyes fixed on my parted lips. He rested his hands on my hips and I could feel the warmth of them through the fabric of my dress. He guided me around the bench and walked me backwards until I felt the trunk of the oak behind my back. Eomer lifted his hands from my hips and placed them on the trunk on either side of my shoulders. I felt his warm breath on the side of my face as he leaned forward and brushed his lips over my ear. I breathed heavily as his lips skimmed down the column of my neck to rest just above my collar bone. My heart beat wildly and the place between my thighs positively throbbed.

Eomer breathed against the skin just below my collar bone before skimming back up my neck. His lips pressed light kisses along my jawline before resting at the very corner of my mouth. My breath hitched, anticipating the moment when he would finally press his lips to mine. He pulled away for a moment, peering down into my face, his eyes hooded with a desire that matched my own.

"Breathe, Lothiriel," he said. I let go of the breath that I didn't realize I was holding, my chest heaving against his. Eomer smiled and ducked his head to brush his lips against mine. Whatever I had imagined in my daydreams, it paled in comparison to the reality of Eomer's mouth moving on mine. He was unhurried and decidedly thorough. Eomer threaded his fingers through my hair, pulling my face even closer to his. I gasped when I felt his tongue swipe over my lips. He pushed through and brushed his tongue against mine, tantalizingly slow. It was odd and unlike anything I had heard of, but it awakened every nerve ending in my body. He continued to plunder my mouth, a low rumble of satisfaction sounding from his throat. I felt the hand that wasn't tangled in my hair grip my right hip, drawing me against the length of his body. I pulled away, looking up into Eomer's face, my eyes wide and wild with want.

The desire Eomer felt for me was clearly written across his face. "Perhaps we should stop before we can't," he said, his voice low and gravely.

"Perhaps we should carry on," I said breathlessly.

Eomer gave a dark chuckle, the sound sensuous enough to make me throb even more. He leaned forward and buried his face in the crook of my neck.

"No, I think we've done enough," he said, and I could feel his lips moving against my skin as he spoke.

"Kiss me again," I demanded.

"Last night you denied your proclivity for giving orders," Eomer reminded me, still speaking against my skin.

"I lied," I said simply.

"Evidently," Eomer whispered, pressing quick kisses to my neck. His mouth moved over my throat and across my jaw before kissing my lips.

"There," he said quietly, "Anything more and your father would have every right to run me out of the city."

"Please don't speak of my father right now."

"Fine," Eomer said, chuckling. He made to pull away from me but I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him closer. I pressed my mouth to his and swiped my tongue over his lips, trying out what he had done to me moments ago. Eomer opened his mouth to me and allowed me to explore him unhurriedly. It was odd, to be sure, but it awoke something within me that I hadn't known existed. It was incredibly sensuous and made me want to pull him down to the grass and make love to him right there.

"I didn't know about that kind of kissing," I said against his lips once we had pulled apart. "Show me more."

"You want me to show you more?" Eomer repeated, running his fingers over my jaw.

"Well you obviously know more than I do," I said reasonably. "I'm sure there is more that you could show me."

"Lothiriel, there certainly is, but I am hardly going to show you everything right now," Eomer said, his fingers now skimming over the neckline of my dress. My breath hitched. "Some things are better when you wait."

"Show me one more thing," I demanded. "Just one."

Eomer continued to skim his fingers over my neckline, his eyes following their movement. "This is a dangerous game, Lothiriel," he said warningly.

"Please," I implored him, "just one. I have ached for you for over three years. You can show me just one more thing."

Eomer did not respond right away, his fingers still toying with my neckline and running over the tops of my breasts. His brows were furrowed and I sensed he was having an inner battle. Suddenly, the hand that was still tangled in my hair gripped and pulled my face to his. His lips crushed down on mine, his mouth moving with a furious intensity that stole my breath. His other hand shaped over my breast, massaging at it, his thumb swiping again over its peak. I could not stop the moan that tore from my throat as his embrace nearly consumed me, and then it was done, almost as soon as it had started. Eomer broke away from me and rested his forehead against mine. We panted, our breath mingling. His hand lingered over my breast, his thumb circling the peak.

"Enough," he breathed. "Enough. We will have to leave anything else for another day. I cannot in good conscious do anything more, as much I would like to."

"Are you certain?"

"Lothiriel, we will have the rest of our lives for me to show you how we might enjoy each other. And believe me, I will show you everything. But not today."

Eomer pressed one last kiss to my lips before dropping his hand from my breast and taking several steps away from me. He considered me thoughtfully as I stood there, panting and back still plastered to the tree trunk.

"When I first saw you all those years ago," he began, "I did not think I would ever be fortunate enough to be here with you now." A slow grin spread across his face as he took in the sight of me. "You look positively ravished, lass."

"Well," I said, still somewhat breathless. "That can only be attributed to whatever that was that you just did to me."

Eomer huffed in amusement. "See if you can sneak away first, love. Your hair certainly looks like you've been tussled. You'll want to avoid uncomfortable questions if you can manage it."

"Why can we not walk out together? Would it damage my honor for us to been seen together?" I asked teasingly.

"To be found leaving these private gardens alone with an unmarried man? Yes, it would damage your honor."

"I don't particularly care."

"Fine, Lothiriel, hang your honor. Do it for mine."

"Yours?"

"I don't want to garner a reputation for seducing young maidens," Eomer said, his smirk evident.

"I will tell everyone that it was I who seduced you."

"And it would not be far from the truth," Eomer said, somewhat exasperated, "but dammit lass." He strode two steps forward, grabbed me by the waist and kissed me hard on the mouth. After a moment he pulled me back, spun me round by the waist pushed me away from him. "Go," he said commandingly. It thrilled me to be tossed around so.

I started to walk away but called to him over my shoulder.

"You will speak to my father?"

"Directly, madam," he responded.

"Good," I said. "Be sure to be quick."

I heard an exasperated laugh behind me as I strode away. Somehow it seemed I was able to vex him, and the thought that I would be able to hone those skills for years to come ignited a warmth within me.

---

A/N – My husband and I flirt with each other through teasing and getting on each other's nerves. We both take pride in knowing exactly which buttons to press to get reactions out of each other, all in good fun of course. I wanted to write something similar here with Lothiriel finding ways to needle exasperation out of Eomer, especially since he has been the more composed one between the two of them.

It was fun writing about how -ehem- horny Lothiriel is getting and how her patience is starting to thin. She's young, she's got hormones and she doesn't know what to do with them. I also like how she's determined to get her way and get her damn kiss even though she's super inexperienced. I do think she scandalized Eomer a bit. He could tell from the beginning that she was a bit of a spitfire, but I don't think he was expecting a little Gondorian princess to be so forthright. I like the idea that he was scheming behind the scenes, laying out a well-thought plan to convince Imrahil to let them marry. He had it all figured out and was totally cool with orchestrating everything, and then it gets turned on its head when Lothiriel shows up and basically tells him, "Yeah, I'm really horny. What are you going to do about it?"

It's ridiculous, but it's love.