Amrothos stepped out of the Golden Hall for some fresh air. The sun was about to set but the feasting and celebration continued on strong. He took a sip from his tankard, the mead sweet against his tongue. It had been some time since he had drunk strong drink, and the small amount of mead he had consumed warmed him comfortably.

A cheer rang out of the hall, and Amrothos looked over his shoulder to see that Éomer and Lothíriel were kissing. Amrothos sighed sadly, happy for his sister but his soul longing for someone of his own. Not just any someone really; his heart longed for the lady-smith Léofwyn. There had been no other women since her, and Amrothos doubted there would be any more. His sudden change of ways had surprised his family at first but they all seemed happier for it, and Amrothos did not regret his decision.

Amrothos took another drink from his tankard, surveying the sunset. He had asked Léofwyn to meet him in Edoras when she had left, nearly a year ago. As their week had crept by, he had seen no sign of the Lady-smith and it had stung him. He had hoped that she had shared the same feelings he had for her. But as of now, his hope had faded and dejection had stolen over him. He had covered his morose well though, with happy smiles and the activity of wedding preparations.

He wandered around the portico, finding a more secluded spot from the revelers. Edoras was alight with torches, and the sound of merrymaking rose from the streets as well. He stared down at the city, mindlessly following the path of a group of merry makers. He watched as they stopped and greeted another group, laughing and hugging each other before the two groups separated and moved onward. Amrothos sighed again. He feared he had chosen a solitary life for himself.

Absorbed so in his melancholic thoughts, the prince did not notice the footfalls behind him, or the light swish of skirts. It was not until the breeze gusted, and a familiar scent enveloped him: forge smoke and lavender. Amrothos leapt to his feet, turning round quickly. Before him, in the last rays of the sun, stood Léofwyn. Her white-blonde hair was unbound and it floated about her face gently in the breeze. Her ice-blue eyes regarded Amrothos carefully, her steely front cracking as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

"You came," Amrothos whispered, his hands hovering next to Léofwyn's sides, barely brushing her hands. They regarded each other for a moment in the dying embers of the sun, the air between them charged. Amrothos could help himself no longer and reached up to gently brush Léofwyn's hair from her face. Léofwyn's arms were suddenly around Amrothos' neck, her lips peppering him with kisses. Amrothos' heart soared, and he kissed her back, holding her to himself tightly.

"Be my husband, wed me," Léofwyn spoke between kisses. "I cannot live any longer without you,"

"I will, with all my heart, I will," Amrothos answered, kissing Léofwyn soundly. Léofwyn pulled away, her steely mask gone, replaced by a soft smile.

"We need only two witnesses for a common marriage," she nearly whispered.

"Tonight?" Amrothos asked, smiling broadly. Léofwyn nodded, taking Amrothos' hands and leading him toward the Golden Hall. Amrothos' stomach lurched with nerves but he had never been so happy in his life. As they rounded the corner, they almost ran into Amrothos' father. Imrahil stepped back with a laugh, his facer sobering when he saw who held Amrothos' hands.

"Lady Léofwyn, so good to see you," Imrahil took the lady-smith's free hand and kissed her knuckles.

"You as well, my lord," Léofwyn replied, casting a look at Amrothos.

"Father," Amrothos gulped. "Would you be one of our witnesses? We need two and I would be honored if you were…" Amrothos' words faltered as he saw the shock register upon his father's face. Imrahil's eyes widened some and he took a step back, taking a long swallow from the tankard in his hand. Then he sighed.

"Erchirion will be unhappy that he will be the last one to wed," Imrahil's expression was resigned, but his eyes were kind. "Wait here and I will find your other witness,"

Amrothos and Léofwyn exchanged a happy glance, and Amrothos turned, kissing the lady-smith again. She sighed, leaning her head against his chest, and Amrothos stroked her hair.

"I thought you weren't going to come," Amrothos whispered.

"I almost did not. I was so vexed about leaving my sister that I could not make up my mind. I wanted to be with you, but I felt guilty leaving Alfra in search of my happiness. When she realized what I was doing, she yelled at me for so loudly and long that she was hoarse. She told me that I had lost one love in the War, that I should not lose another,"

"I will have to thank her someday," Amrothos chuckled, pulling back to look into Léofwyn's eyes. She smiled timidly up at him, and Amrothos hugged her to himself again.

"Here they are," Imrahil's voice drew the pair apart and Amrothos smiled to see who their second witness was. Imrahil had found Éothain, and the jolly rider beamed at Amrothos and Léofwyn.

"I believe both of your people's should be represented," Imrahil said. There was an awkward pause then Imrahil cleared his throat. "If you two are ready?"

Amrothos and Léofwyn turned toward each other, and Amrothos took both her hand's in his.

"I, Amrothos, third son of Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth, take you, Léofwyn, Daughter of Herubrand, for my wife. You will be my one love, and I will cherish you always."

"I, Léofwyn, Daughter of Herubrand, take you, Amrothos, for my husband. I will forever share your bed and bear your children,"

The pair looked to their witnesses, questioningly.

"All you need is to give her one of your possessions to seal the covenant," Éothain supplied, still smiling. Amrothos' heart sunk, he wore no ring or jewelry and he vainly patted his tunic, hoping something would appear. But then, there was a flash of silver in Léofwyn's palm and he looked up in surprise. She held his silver shell clasp and she turned it over, so that his name, engraved upon the back, glittered in the torchlight. She smiled, and Amrothos took the clasp, securing it upon the neck of Léofwyn's gown.

"That's it then!" Éothain clapped, causing Amrothos and Léofwyn to jump in surprise.

"May Béma bless your union and may your wife bear you many sons!" Éothain hugged Amrothos roughly and then kissed Léofwyn upon the cheek. Imrahil came forward, kissing Léofwyn's hand then embracing his son.

"Take care of her," Imrahil admonished, his gaze stern. But when he stepped away, there was a smile upon his face.

"Thank you father," Amrothos said, his chest swelling with love for the man who raised him. Imrahil's eyes misted, and he shifted uncomfortably.

"Be gone now, enjoy your wedding night," Imrahil said, slightly brusque to cover his sudden emotion. Amrothos looked to Léofwyn, squeezing her hand before leading her into the Golden Hall toward his room.

Night had fallen, and Lothíriel could feel herself sagging. She cast her eyes upon Éomer; Éothain had just returned from outside the hall and whatever he was telling Éomer brought a joyfully surprised light to the king's eye. As if he could feel her eyes upon him, Éomer turned to Lothíriel as if to share a ripe secret. But when he saw the fatigue in his new wife's eyes, he said a quiet word to Éothain, then took Lothíriel's hand and rose from his seat.

"Come, let us retire," Éomer said to Lothíriel as they stood. He led her away from the feasting amidst loud cheers and blessing for many sons. Lothíriel's face flamed at the brazen blessings but Éomer laughed, leading her away from the noise. When they entered the quieter halls toward his chambers, Éomer stopped to kiss Lothíriel slowly. When they broke apart, he smiled at her, leading her toward the ornate door at the end of the hall. When he opened it, he swept Lothíriel off her feet, carrying her over the threshold. She giggled at him but her stomach was suddenly filled with butterflies. He carried her over to his large bed, setting her down gently upon the mattress. Lothíriel sat, slightly uncomfortable, looking around his masculine room. She studied his armor stand and the weapons by it. The grand fireplace, that sat empty for the summer months. The tapestries of horses and battle upon the walls. The candles that cast a soft glow throughout the room. Anything but the man who stood before her.

"You may change anything you like once you've settled in," Éomer said, noticing her scrutiny of their surroundings. Éomer sat on the bed beside his new bride, drawing her down next to him. Lothíriel sat bolt upright, her heart suddenly pounding.

"What is wrong?" Éomer asked, knowing what Lothíriel would answer.

"I am afraid. Alarwen told me about the first time, how it could be… painful," Lothíriel gulped, her face feeling hot. To her chagrin, Éomer smiled at her.

"I will be gentle. And this will be my first time as well," Éomer whispered into Lothíriel's ear. She drew back and looked at him in surprise.

"Really?"

"Yes," Éomer chuckled, deciding to be amused at Lothíriel's surprise and not offended. She seemed to realize what her reaction looked like and she laughed embarrassedly.

"I am sorry, I did not mean to paint you a philanderer, I just… well my brothers gave the impression that men bedded women many times before their marriage night, and I…" Lothíriel rambled on. Éomer laughed, stopping her words with a kiss.

"We will go slowly; savor the moment," Éomer said, kicking off his boots and pulling his tunic over his head. He then gently took the circlet from Lothíriel's brow, placing it carefully upon a small table Lothíriel had not seen. He then reached around her, unclasping the silver belt at her waist, then starting to undo the buttons up her back. Lothíriel shivered as his warm hands touched her skin. When the buttons were free, Éomer stood, pulling Lothíriel up to him. He gently slid her wedding gown from her shoulders, letting the royal blue silk puddle at her feet. Goosebumps rose upon Lothíriel's skin as she stood in her silken shift. Éomer's eyes ran over her form hungrily, but he kissed her gently, careful not to scare his new bride. His kisses ran down her jaw onto her exposed collarbones and shoulders. Lothíriel sighed as a small fire lit in the pit of her stomach. She felt Éomer smile against the skin of her neck and he pulled away, taking her hand.

"Come, wife," Éomer pulled Lothíriel gently back onto the bed. The newlyweds lay next to each other, their kisses becoming deeper and more heated as the minutes went by. The fire in Lothíriel's stomach grew with every kiss and touch, and a longing for Éomer took hold of her, speeding her kisses. Éomer returned her passion, kissing her hungrily.

"I love you, Éomer," Lothíriel breathed between kisses.

"And I you," Éomer replied, his voice husky. They stared at each other for a moment, sea-green eyes staring into blue, a silent trust passing between them. They began kissing again, the need for words soon lost between the King and his Queen.

Lothíriel woke suddenly, her bare skin cold. The blankets had been pulled off of her and she rolled to her side, starting when she saw Éomer's bare back. But she recovered quickly, smiling as she pulled the blanket over herself and snuggling up to her husband's warm skin. She was soon comfortable again, and she wrapped her arm around Éomer's waist, tracing little patterns on his bare skin.

She had not expected the way intimacy felt; it had been slightly painful for her, but Éomer had been gentle, and had given her all the time she needed. When they had finally fallen into each other's arms, exhausted and glowing, Lothíriel had not expected the depth of affection she felt for Éomer. It was such a vulnerable thing, letting yourself go, that she felt she had acquired a rare treasure from the man she married.

Éomer stirred, turning toward her.

"It is too early to be awake," Éomer said groggily, glancing at the still-dark window.

"You took the blankets and I was cold," Lothíriel said, kissing Éomer's chin.

"I apologize, my wife. May I offer to warm you?" Éomer asked, laughter in his voice. He turned to face her, nuzzling her neck. Lothíriel shivered as the pleasant roughness of his beard tickled her skin. Their kisses began slowly but quickly built in intensity.

Sometime later, Lothíriel lay upon Éomer's chest, sighing contentedly.

"Apology accepted," she quipped. Éomer laughed sleepily, stroking Lothíriel's back.

"We should sleep, for the morning will be busy,"

"If we must," Lothíriel murmured, sleep claiming her soon after.

Amrothos stared at his bride in the morning light. The sunlight through the window caught her golden hair, making it sparkle as it spread across her shoulders. He brushed some of her hair away from her sleeping face, smiling at the light spray of freckles that dotted the bridge of her nose. Her eyes fluttered then, and she looked at Amrothos through sleepy eyes.

"Good morning," Amrothos whispered. Léofwyn smiled, quirking an eyebrow at her new husband.

"It is not good yet," She growled, pulling Amrothos over and planting a hungry kiss upon his lips. Amrothos was only too willing to oblige his new wife, and they were soon wrapped in each other's limbs. When they were spent, Léofwyn lay upon Amrothos' shoulder, tracing patterns across his chest with her strong hands.

"I never thought I would spend a night under the King's roof," she spoke, her tone matter of fact.

"You find that though most king's houses are opulent, there comes a point when their furnishings and trappings get in the way," Amrothos frowned slightly, thinking of his family's halls. They were grand and they were comfortable, but Amrothos realized he would be happy anywhere as long as Léofwyn was with him.

"When will we have to return, to Dol Amroth?" Léofwyn asked, a shadow passing over her blue eyes. Amrothos had not thought that far, and he frowned in concentration.

"Father planned to stay for some time, but he has not said how long," Amrothos frowned, suddenly wishing that he did not have to uproot Léofwyn from her homeland. He was silent for so long that Léofwyn left the bed, searching for her clothing that had been tossed aside the night before. Amrothos' concentration waivered as he caught sight of his wife's bare back, and he sat up, wishing Léofwyn was not so eager to find her clothing. But the expression on her face was serious, and Amrothos found his clothes, dressing quickly. He caught sight of Léofwyn pinning his silver shell clasp to the neck of her gown and a thought floated through his mind.

"I need to find my father," Amrothos said. Léofwyn was braiding her hair back and she looked at Amrothos through her eyelashes.

"Shall I come with you?"

"Yes, for this will involve you," Amrothos said, taking his wife's hand when she had tied her braid. Amrothos escorted his bride from their room with a purpose, hoping his father would be amenable to his sudden idea.

Lothíriel soaked in the bath that had been drawn in Éomer's room. She did not know when he had sent for one, but a few moments after waking, two maids along with Fingwen had knocked upon their door, offering the tub and hot water. Lothíriel had welcomed them, glad for any reason to prolong her time with Éomer. When the maids had discreetly finished their duties, Lothíriel had sunk into the tub, relishing in the warm water.

She ducked her head under the warm water, catching Éomer's eyes upon her when she wiped the water from her face. She blushed at his open scrutiny and he winked at her.

"Too bad that tub is not larger," Éomer said, smiling at Lothíriel. Lothíriel laughed, butterflies forming in her stomach. It was so strange to have a man so near to her while bathing that she washed quickly, stepping out of the tub with a shiver. Éomer came and wrapped a clean linen towel about her, giving her a lingering kiss before disrobing and washing himself. Lothíriel dressed in the gown Fingwen had laid out, watching her husband's ablutions from the edge of the bed. She could not tear her eyes away from his impressive form, taking note of the array of scars scattered across his skin. One scar in particular, caught her attention; it was nearly faded into the skin of his thigh, but she could see where something had sliced down the length of his leg.

"How did you get that scar?" Lothíriel asked, pointing at Éomer's leg. He looked down puzzled for a moment, then laughed.

"Théodred had dared me that I could not swing from the saddle and snatch a spear from the ground at a full gallop. I tried, but I had not the reach, and instead of grabbing the spear, I fell from the saddle, and slid over the spear-head. Théodred thought he had killed me," Éomer laughed, his expression becoming far away. "I had nearly forgotten about that; uncle had nearly killed both of us once the healer had patched me up,"

"How old were you?" Lothíriel asked next.

"I had just turned thirteen years," Éomer said, a small smile still playing at his lips. Then, his expression turned serious and he frowned.

"Though Théodred and I were often trying to out-do each other, I sorely miss him. He was my senior by some years, but he was the closest to a brother I had when I was young,"

"I am sorry," Lothíriel said, unsure of what else to say. But her eyes quickly found another scar and she asked about its origin. She was soon circling her husband, her eyes alight with interest. Éomer obliged her scrutiny, amusement heavy in his eyes. When Lothíriel had inquired about the tenth scar she had observed, Éomer burst out laughing.

"Enough wife! We will have more than enough time for me to tell my tales. And now you have distracted me and the bath is cold," Éomer frowned at Lothíriel but there was still a smile in his eyes. Lothíriel blushed and sat back on the bed, letting Éomer finish bathing.

"Have most of your scars come from the War?" Lothíriel asked quietly, when Éomer was finally pulling a tunic over his damp hair.

"The newer ones, yes but there was unrest in Rohan long before battle lines were drawn. But were it not for the war and its outcome, I may never had wed you, and for that I am grateful," Éomer smiled, having come close enough to kiss Lothíriel upon the lips. She smiled again, thanking the Valar she had been blessed with such a man for her husband.

"And, as I said before, we have many years before us to tell our stories, even this one, that has just begun,"

Ten years later

Lothíriel stood upon the steps of Meduseld, shielding her eyes against the noonday sun. They would be within sight of Edoras any moment now, and she paced the steps nervously. She stopped when a strong hand gripped her shoulder, and she turned to meet eyes with her husband. He smiled knowingly at her, silent words passing between them. In the crook of his arm sat their son, Elfwine. The babe was barely a year old, and he held his pudgy hands out for his mother. She took him with a smile, looking over his dark downy hair at Éomer.

"How did you get away from your meetings?" Lothíriel asked her husband.

"Éothain seemed eager to get home; he is certain Fingwen's labor pains will come upon her when he is away," Éomer smiled, wrapping his arms around his wife and child. Lothíriel laughed, the picture of Éothain her mind conjured being slightly comical.

"It still awes me that they wed," Lothíriel said, thinking back to Éothain and her maid's wedding a little over a year before.

"They certainly took their time to find each other, didn't they?" Éomer chuckled, scanning the horizon as he absently put his arm around his wife's waist. Husband and wife fell silent, the only sound being Elfwine's coos and the changing of the guard. Lothíriel looked out to the horizon, again, her eyes catching upon a glitter of silver cresting a hill.

"There they are!" she nearly shouted, startling Elfwine who began to cry. Lothíriel soothed her baby, laughing softly at the disgruntled look upon his face.

"You will have to get used to the noise, Elfwine for it will certainly be loud with Amrothos' brood," Éomer chuckled, his expression as excited as his wife's.

It seemed like ages until Lothíriel could recognized riders and silver and blue banners. Then it was another age before the party dismounted from their conveyances and started up the steps of Meduseld. Lothíriel could hold her excitement no longer and she descended the steps as fast as she could while keeping a firm grip upon Elfwine. At the head of the procession, walked her father. His hair had silvered in the passing years and there were more lines of care upon his face. But his eyes were bright and he embraced his daughter and grandson with strong arms.

"Father, I have missed you," Lothíriel whispered, feeling a tear escape her eyes.

"As I you," Imrahil replied, squeezing Lothíriel again before pulling away to look at his grandson.

"Elfwine, this is your grandfather," Lothíriel explained to the babe. "You do not remember him but he loves you very much," Then she unceremoniously handed the babe to Imrahil, who took the child with a laugh. Elfwine surveyed Imrahil with skeptical eyes but smiled shyly when Imrahil tickled his cheek.

"We will never get to hold him now," a disgruntled voice rose from the crowd behind Imrahil. Lothíriel immediately recognized the voice of Amrothos and she turned with a laugh.

"I thought with your brood, you would be happy to have your arms free for a moment,"

"After ten, my arms feel empty without some sort of child in them," Amrothos shrugged, his crest of Ambassador glinting in the sun. Lothíriel laughed as a small army of children surrounded her and her brother as she hugged Amrothos. When she pulled back, she could not help ruffling the hair of the boys and embracing the girls who suddenly clung to her skirts.

"Greet your aunt then be off," Amrothos instructed, when the children all started talking about their trip at once. They quieted quickly and cast quick smiles at Lothíriel before running up the steps beyond. In the hubbub, Lothíriel had not noticed Léofwyn come stand beside her husband, their newest babe in her arms.

"How did you fare traveling?" Lothíriel asked her sister in law as she embraced her gently.

"As well as could be expected with a new babe," Léofwyn chuckled, a good natured smile upon her face. Lothíriel and Léofwyn instantly began a long babble about motherhood when Éomer's voice called her away.

"We've let our guests stand upon our steps too long," Éomer's voice held a laugh, and greeted Amrothos and Léofwyn. Then he gestured up the steps to where the cook stood in the door of Meduseld.

"I believe we are expected for a feast," Éomer laughed, having Amrothos and Léofwyn walk before him. He and Lothíriel followed behind, hold each other's hand. They were the last to reach the doors of Meduseld and Éomer stopped just within the doorway. Amrothos and Léofwyn's children talked animatedly to any who would listen as they were herded into their seats. Imrahil was already sitting, Elfwine still in his embrace. The babe had his fingers tangled in his grandfather's silver hair, as Imrahil spoke intently into Elfwine's chubby face. Éomer pulled Lothíriel into his arms, surprising her with a kiss.

"What was that for?" Lothíriel laughed, only pulling away enough to look into her husband's eyes. Éomer's eyes glinted, hinting of plans for when they were alone but he only shrugged in reply.

"Am I not allowed to kiss my wife?"

"You are always allowed," Lothíriel grinned, stretching up to kiss her husband once more.

When they took their places at the head of the table and surveyed the life and light before them, both King and Queen knew, they were blessed beyond measure.

A/N: And now, this tale is done. Thank you all for your Reads, Reviews, Favorites, and Follows. They mean the world to me.

I have a couple stories swirling in my brain, but I am taking a "Motherhood furlough" as it were for a little while. Baby #2 is within two weeks of arrival, and my brain is not quite focused on writing. ;)

I send my love to all and hope to make my way back to writing when the dust settles. :)

Thanks again!

MairaElleth