A/N:

All "movie" canon characters share the likeness from the films (ex: Éomer, Faramir, Aragorn etc.).

Other characters have been imagined as follows:

Lothíriel - Eva Green

Imrahil - Jeremy Irons
Elphir - Eoin Macken
Erchirion - Harry Lloyd
Amrothos - Ben Barnes

Nenniel - Alisha Boe
Evandor - Julian Morris
Galieth - Sarah Felberbaum
Camaen - Tomiwa Edun

ib-Roën – Nik Xhelilaj
Sabin-Saër – Khaled El Nabawy
Azrubên – Matteo Martari

Chapter 1

Gulls wheeled overhead, heralding the arrival of two fishing boats as they sailed lazily along the western shore, destined to land in the port of Dol Amroth. Lothíriel ran a comforting hand along the gelding's neck, soothing him with quiet words as he flicked his tail. His great head tilted to the side, taking in the cries of the birds with swiveling ears. He snorted and snaked his neck to and fro, resolute in his feelings on the matter.

"Still he frets?" the Princess' cousin commented, adjusting her skirts about the saddle of her palomino palfrey. "Nearly a year since you brought him hence and he has not acclimated."

"The seabirds are ever his foe," Lothíriel answered, offering the black horse another reassuring pat. Though he was clearly disillusioned by the scene he remained obedient, standing in relative silence as the women observed the calm sea beyond the cliffs. "But he has improved! Do you recall his first ride on the beach?"

"Yes. I thought you'd surely be thrown to your death," Galieth replied with a smirk. "Or that he'd rear up and over and squash you upon the rocks."

"We had some near misses. So this is progress. He may never serve as a Swan Knight's steed but we've come to an accord, haven't we, Daeroc?"

"What was his Rohirric name?" her kinswoman inquired as they turned the horses from the ocean toward the road, the fragrance of honeysuckle and lavender rising as they moved through the brush.

"I cannot recall," the Princess confessed with an embarrassed quirk of her lips. "Rather, I had a limited grasp on the pronunciation when I departed Rohan and haven't had a proper reminder."

"Probably best you'll not be seeing folk of Mark, else they'd be offended you bestowed him such a simple name."

"I let Síloriel name him," Lothíriel replied with a smile to her kinswoman's surprised look, intentionally avoiding the comment about Rohan. "I think it a quality name coming from a six-year-old."

"I'm sure my daughter reveled in the opportunity. Shadow horse isn't the worst she could've done."

Galieth reined her palomino back, allowing the Princess space to put the black gelding on the path, where they walked side by side. This trail was not paved but was maintained enough that the ground was free of debris and well-trod by both horse and deer. It took them away from the cliffs into the fields dotted with beech and ash trees providing shade in the warm afternoon. The countryside was a mosaic of color this season; the purples, yellows, whites and pinks dappling the silver and sage brush. The path took them further inland turning east toward the city, its white stone walls a beacon on the horizon. A Swan Knight awaited them at the paved road leading to Dol Amroth, pulling himself up into the saddle as the women joined him.

"Find what you were looking for, my Lady?" he asked as the trio started toward the city.

"Aye," Lothíriel gestured to the small satchel attached to her saddle. "More than enough to last the Healing Hall into autumn."

They rode in silence, enjoying the shade afforded by the olive trees lining the paved road. Their peace was short lived, however, as it became unexpectedly congested closer to the southeastern wall of Dol Amroth. There was a bottleneck, uncommon at this hour, as farmers and tradesmen from the countryside requested entry into the city.

The alabaster stone rose out of the earth to greet them, interrupted by a great gate of wood flanked by narrow towers ascending in the likeness of arching trees, the blue banners at their pinnacle undulating in the breeze. The trio halted to allow a cart to pass them, Galieth using this pause to move closer to Lothíriel and tossing the auburn braid over her shoulder.

"So many wagons! Is the Prince expected soon?"

"No sooner than planned," the woman replied with a frown, taking stock of the bustling entrance to the city with a bemused visage. "Last I heard his party arrived at Linhir less than a fortnight ago from their eastern campaign. The King and his retinue likely tarried for a spell before heading north. I expect Father will be here shortly, but all this hustle and bustle seems strange."

"Perhaps King Elessar comes with him?"

"I doubt it. We'd have heard about it to prepare the Keep. And I suspect he'll want to spend Loëndë in Minas Tirith, given it's his first wedding anniversary."

The conversation ended as their escort raised a hand to the closest guardsman on the gate tower, who called to a Knight at the entrance. A path was made to allow the Princess and her kinswoman entry, wagons and carts halted so they could ride swiftly through the traffic. Lothíriel observed barrels of wine from the vineyards in the south, fruit, wheat and grain entering Dol Amroth, piquing her interest.

"Perhaps it's for the feast?" Galieth posited, following the Princess' gaze and raising her voice as they passed through the first gate. "Your father missed last year's Loëndë celebration."

"True," the other woman agreed as they rode along the cobbled street, their escort parting the gathering of folk from across Belfalas as they approached the second gate. She let her curiosity lapse as they moved deeper into the city, the crowds easing and abating as they approached the Prince's Keep.

Further into Dol Amroth the architecture transitioned from the robust Third Age walls and buildings to the sinuous and nature-inspired style of the Elves, trees dotting the lanes and fountains bubbling in the center of small plazas. The heart of Dol Amroth was the Prince's Keep, though it was not in the center of the city, but situated instead on the northwestern corner, overlooking the ocean. The Keep blended Elvish design with Númenórean construction, the flying buttresses bursting from the ivory sides to support the high walls of the Prince's home.

Lothíriel and Galieth dismounted, depositing their reins into the waiting hands of the stable lads, the horses led to barn east of the keep. They passed under the pinnacled archway, now in the courtyard of the Prince's personal apartments. A great platane tree had, centuries before, rooted itself into the rock of the promontory, its curving branches spreading up and out, the silvery bark mimicked by the stone used throughout the city.

"I take my leave," the Princess' cousin remarked as she removed her riding gloves. "Camaen will be returned from the docks and the children await me."

Lothíriel waved farewell, turning after Galieth departed to enter the open-air vestibule into the Keep. She was greeted by a concerned Amrothos who nearly collided with her as he strode down the hallway. Stepping back her brother observed her with what appeared to be unease and agitation before looking beyond her shoulder.

"Where were you?" he asked, grey eyes settling on her face. Lothíriel raised a brow at his tense demeanor and salutation, crossing her arms and waiting a moment before answering, resulting in a sigh of impatience from him.

"The Healing Hall needed a few herbs from the field. Galieth and I lunched in the meadow and gathered our stock. Why?"

"Surely you beheld the merchants and farmers streaming into the city?"

"I did."

"Do you know why?"

"Amrothos, are you being intentionally pig-headed, or did you get your ears boxed in the training yard?"

"Father returns."

"Oh, well then it makes sense. Loëndë is his favorite festival. Elphir is clearly making a great show of it, the little arse-kisser."

"He comes with guests, Loth."

"Guests…" the woman's brows rose again as she trailed off, an expectant if not slightly annoyed expression on her face as she stared at her brother. "You really do seem unwell –"

"The King of Rohan."

Lothíriel stopped, grey eyes meeting his as her mouth stayed open, heart beating in her ears. Comprehension replaced the surprise as she realized why Amrothos had been so cagey and concerned. His expression was one of sympathy and worry now as he waited for her to process the news.

"When? Why is he coming here?"

"I don't know. Elphir only just received the missive from Linhir that Father is bringing him to visit Dol Amroth."

"Oh. That's… alright. Then we must prepare for company." The Princess adjusted her face, swallowing as she fiddled with a tie on her sleeve. Amrothos pursed his lips and rubbed the stubble on his jaw, brow creased, countenance shifting between pity and ire.

"You could have Chir take you out to sea. Make the excuse that you didn't know. I'll never tell them I saw you today."

"All the Prince's children will be expected to greet Father and his guest," the woman replied as they began walking together down the vestibule toward the great hall. "Though I appreciate the effort. I expect there's still much to ready in the Keep."

"Why not let Nenniel handle preparations?"

"No," she answered firmly. "I am the Lady of Dol Amroth. I'll not shirk responsibility to someone else and slink away. It's been a year since Edoras. I don't need to be coddled."

"Perhaps not, but I cannot conceive why Father felt it appropriate to invite him here," Amrothos remarked with a frown.

She was mildly surprised by the aggravation and disbelief in his voice, their conversations on the topic of Éomer both restrained and few. It was clear he still harbored resentment toward the King and it would be on full display shortly. Amrothos sighed resolutely as they reached the entrance to Hithrond, the great hall of Dol Amroth. A pair of Swan Knights stood guard, flanking the white oak doors as the siblings paused. "I'll make final preparations with the stable and the lads at the yard."

"When are they expected?"

"Tomorrow afternoon."

"Tomorrow?!"

"I think the messenger was delayed in arriving. Or perhaps Father and the King changed their plans hastily. Whatever the case we haven't much time. Elphir called for the countrymen to bring their goods and pulled extra serving staff from town to make ready."

"Is it just the King or will the entire éored be joining us?"

"The King and a few of his men, as I understand." He paused and placed a hand on her arm, a gentle squeeze given before he looked toward the courtyard they'd departed. "You get to your labors, sister. I'll see you for supper tonight and we can talk further, if you'd like."

Lothíriel nodded as her brother took off in the direction they'd come, waving a hand in farewell as he departed. She was given access to the great hall, worrying her bottom lip as she considered her next step.

She was fully capable of preparing the household for a guest of this magnitude in the few hours she'd been given. Dol Amroth had already hosted Aragorn and his Queen earlier in the year and was ready to receive and entertain another monarch. It was the King himself that gave her pause, unprepared as she was to see him again.

She knew they would cross paths sooner or later, though she expected their next meeting would be at Éowyn and Faramir's wedding in autumn. But she'd intentionally put that reunion out of mind to escape her own unresolved feelings toward the man, his marriage and their leave taking. Now that she was faced with her emotions and Éomer – it was decidedly unpleasant.

The empty hall of Dol Amroth was quiet, the long windows and vaulted ceiling welcoming her like the sheltering branches of trees. Though significantly smaller it was reminiscent of the throne room of Minas Tirith with its sunlit nave terminating at the Prince's seat on a partially raised dais. Yet, there was no Steward's chair and no dark aisles lining the narrow hall. The court of Dol Amroth could fit comfortably in this chamber and it felt less imposing than the Tower Hall of White City.

Lothíriel walked the bright aisle, approaching the chair designated for the Lady of Dol Amroth, to the left of the Prince's seat, beside Elphir. Her sister by marriage, Nenniel, sat on her other side. Such was different from Minas Tirith and indeed the rest of Gondor; women in the coastal lands were given a place of influence and authority at the Prince's side. The role of Lady of Dol Amroth positioned her above her older brothers, Erchirion and Amrothos, just below her father's heir. She'd sat that seat for over a decade and only now did it unnerve her.

"My Lady?" came a soft voice from the entrance of Hithrond. Her attendant slipped into the room with a quick bow before approaching the Princess. "Has Lord Amrothos told you of our guests?"

"He has," she answered dully, turning away from the dais. "Do you know what Nenniel has prepared?"

"She has been working with the kitchens arranging menus and meals. Lady Nenniel hoped you would be available to confer on accommodations."

"Certainly. Call the chamberlain to my apartment and, if Nenniel is available, invite her as well. I don't want to disturb her progress."

"Yes, my Lady."

"Has Erchirion been seen about the Keep?"

"No, my Lady. I believe he remains at the docks to oversee the merchant ships. His personal caravel was seen this morning anchored off the Highwater."

"Alright. Thank you, Tuilinher."

TTTT

"Where shall you install the King, my Lady?" the chamberlain's terse voice pulled Lothíriel from her momentary reverie as she met his appraising stare. They stood in the Princess' private chambers with the seneschal, laundress and Tuilinher reviewing management of the Keep as they prepared for the King of Rohan's arrival.

"The eastern chambers overlook the stable," Tuilinher offered with a smile, though it faded quickly with a glare from the laundress. "He's a Horselord… so I thought…"

"The Lady doesn't require your opinion, girl," the older woman reproached her with a frown. "Keep quiet and do as you're bid." Despite the harsh words her tone was gentle, Tuilinher blushing and nodding.

"The King of Rohan has seen enough stables in his time," the Keep's chamberlain added with a less affectionate tone, not bothering to look at the maiden as he spoke.

"Install him in the northern most apartments," Lothíriel decided as the man nodded curtly. "It'll afford him a wide view of the sea. And it is the coolest chamber we can manage. Amrothos will see to lodging his men. If he joined by a Marshal then he may also have a northern facing room, perhaps in the smaller one with the tapestry of the hunt."

"Yes, my Lady."

"Do you know if he is partial to the training yard, my Lady?" the seneschal inquired, glancing anxiously at the door. "Will he wish to spar with the Lords of the Keep or require use of the weaponsmiths?"

"I could not say," the woman replied. "But I imagine the Prince and my brothers will take him out to tour the countryside. And he'll want unfettered access to his horse. You may assign a stable hand to him directly but forewarn them that the King may wish to tend his horse alone."

"Yes, my Lady. Anything else that I can be of service for?"

"Nay." The man bowed as he was exiting, gone before he had a chance to stand fully upright. The laundress snorted quietly, ignoring the displeased glance from the chamberlain. No sooner had the seneschal departed did the door open again, Elphir's wife standing in the doorway with a curtsey to Lothíriel.

"Forgive my tardiness," she breathed as the Princess beckoned her in.

"You're here exactly when I need you," Lothíriel assured her before turning to staff. "That should be all. If you run into any obstacles or concerns, find myself or Lady Nenniel."

"We'll have food enough for an army," Nenniel commented as the chamberlain. Tuilinher and laundress bowed and departed. Her sister by marriage sat in an upholstered chair, folding her hands in her lap neatly. Even exhausted she was the picture of decorum. Her dark hair was braided into a thick plait and secured in a sensible bun without a strand out of place. Lothíriel oft marveled at Nenniel's ability to do so much and remain so composed.

"We'll be scrambling for beds if an army is coming," the Princess remarked, letting her shoulders relax now that it was just the two of them.

"I think Elphir called all the farmers in Dor-en-Ernil to the city. Do we need so much? Is the King of Rohan especially picky?"

"I don't believe so," the younger woman answered, meeting Nenniel's dark eyes as she sat in the chair opposite. "Elphir likely wants to make a good impression."

"Does it concern you that he is coming?"

"I'm surprised, certainly. But it doesn't bother me. He is welcome."

"It bothers me." Lothíriel looked at her immediately, surprised at her candor. Nenniel's brow furrowed as she shifted her position in the chair. "It's only been a year. What could he possibly want in Dol Amroth? Need he rub your nose – all our noses – in the broken accord between you?"

"That's not exactly what happened," the Princess countered gently, surprised at the normally even-keel urbane Nenniel speaking so bluntly. "I hope I didn't give that impression, at least. I can't imagine what Amrothos said. But there were no promises given and I left on respectable terms with the King."

"Well, it seems odd to me," the woman stated, her tone back to its normal timbre. "I hope he's only here for a brief visit."

Lothíriel nodded to avoid further conversation but as they sat together in comfortable silence she allowed herself to consider the gravity of this news. She'd spent the better part of the year avoiding thoughts of Éomer and her time in Rohan, partially to elude her own shame, but also because her family had become increasingly protective of her.

When it came to the King of the Mark, all information and comments about him were silenced in the Princess' presence, such that she'd heard no details of Éomer or his deeds as King. He was mentioned having joined Aragorn on progresses east to Rhûn, fulfilling the Oath of Cirion at least once in the past year. But she had not expected he would come so far south to join Imrahil's campaign in Harondor.

"Lottie?"

"Hmm?" Grey eyes met the expectant gaze of her brother's wife, offering an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I was mulling over plans for tomorrow."

"I was wondering if I ought to tell the kitchen staff to avoid an overabundance of seafood for the Horselords."

"Yes, that's probably wise. I suspect he hasn't had much interaction with coastal fare. Recall how it made the Lord of Imlad Morthrond wretch and confined him to the latrine?"

"Yes, the poor old fellow," Nienniel replied with a suspiciously coy expression, barely hidden as she stood and straightened her skirts. "I'll let the cooks know." She paused, opening the door and looking back at Lothíriel with a mischievous glint in her eye. "On the other hand, it wouldn't be so terrible to see the King green in the face and voiding his stomach if it occurred on accident."

"Get out with you," the Princess exclaimed with a snort, shaking her head. "Our mothers would turn in their watery tombs if they heard such devilry."

"You're right. If a spare clam or fish pie found its way to his plate, look not to me, dear sister."