Lothíriel retired after the dinner, but when the maid had come and gone, she still felt too anxious to settle down in the bed. She thought about the events of past twenty four hours: the battle in the woods, how safe she had felt when riding with King Éomer, this morning's disastrous conversation, and then the things Faramir had told her... sunlight glimmering on the Rohir's long blond hair as he poured water over himself and she spied a look of ease and contentment on his strong, bearded face... how confidently he claimed the space around himself!

The memories ran through her mind faster and faster and she started to felt a little dizzy. Needing to clear her head, she grabbed a robe and tied it around herself, and then she slipped out of her room. Her bare feet made no sound against the floorboards and she didn't encounter others on her way out, for which she was glad. She was not in the mood of trying to explain her little outing at this late hour.

Night was quiet and calm when she came outside. She breathed in deeply as she slipped in to the garden and felt grass under her feet, fresh with the dew. Somewhere, she thought she could hear her brother's laughter and guessed he had gone to sit the night either with Faramir's Rangers or the Riders from the North. With his gift of making fast friends, he had acquired quite the assortment of new acquaintances during the Ring War. Not a few of them were from Rohan, and the King of that land was not least. Chewing her lip as she walked, she envied her brother's ability of getting along with people so naturally – and finding so easily common ground with a man so splendid as King Éomer was. Maybe, if she was just as bold and carefree, things wouldn't have turned out like this. Maybe then she could have immediately given the King of Rohan the answer a man such as him surely deserved from a lady of the land that owed a debt as grave to him as Gondor did.

She sighed and walked ahead, and once more her memory returned to when she had thanked him for the flowers and he had kissed her hand. A voice seemed to whisper: what are you afraid of?

Indeed. Perhaps it was time for her to stop being so scared, and just... let the stream to carry her. And she thought of a pair of dark eyes and the invitation she had seen in them. Or was that wistful thinking?

Gazing at the house, she saw an open window and light streaming outside. A shiver ran down her spine, but it was not in apprehension. Rather, it almost felt like foresight.

What had she found in the woods, precisely?

The house was quiet already when Éomer strode downstairs, making haste as to not lose the precious moment. Who knew how long she would linger in the gardens?

He was glad not to encounter anyone on his way. Amrothos or Faramir might have wanted to exchange words with him, thus delaying him from reaching the Princess before she went back inside.

The wind rustled softly in the trees when he entered the garden. Some of the day's heat still lingered under the stars and there was such peace in the world as though all griefs and struggles had ceased for a while. And he felt hopeful. Was it just the wine, or what had brought this mood to him?

Anxiously he sought the garden with his eyes as he strode forward, but the pale figure had vanished. Had she gone back inside already? An owl hooted somewhere nearby and gravel of the pathway crunched under his boots as he walked. Should he call for her name, or would it only frighten her?

But then he saw movement in the shadow, and once more her figure appeared from a shadowy corner. Éomer took a deep breath.

"My lady Princess?" he called to her and she halted, looking at him warily.

"King Éomer", she answered in a soft voice, and he approached her carefully, hoping that his body's language would not alarm her. This moonlit garden was probably the most wonderful kind of a setting for a romantic encounter one could possibly hope for, but for whatever reason Éomer felt like a lad who has never courted a woman before. Well, in a way that was true: she was no wild lass of the Mark, but a Princess of Dol Amroth in Gondor, and the further this day progressed, the more seriously he considered the idea of marrying her. And if all things he had heard about her were true, she was more qualified to be the Lady of Rohirrim than he had been to become the king of his people.

"I saw you from my window. It's a beautiful night, isn't it?" he said at length, hoping to break the ice. Suddenly, he was reminded of hot summer days in the Mark. What would Princess Lothíriel think of his country in summertime? However strange that was, he could rather easily imagine her walking down some green hill, and wind catching in her long dark hair...

"Yes it is", she agreed, clasping her forearm with her good hand. She looked so young, so unsure. Once more, the wish to win her trust mounted in his chest.

"I beg your pardon, Princess. I can leave if you wish to be alone", he offered, though he really didn't want to go. That same song he had felt before still throbbed in his veins, like music made liquid.

"No, of course not. You have as much right to be here as I do", she quickly said, stepping closer to him and holding her hand before her in a gesture of consolation.

Maybe she was ready to listen to him once more. He had to try.

"My lady, I was wondering if you have had a chance to think about what we talked earlier today", he said, keeping his voice even and gentle. "At least... when I spoke with your brother, I felt like there's a reason to be hopeful."

She looked down briefly, but when her eyes met his again, he thought she looked a little more confident than before.

"I have considered it", said the princess, gazing at him with sombre expression on her face. She went on then, "I know how bad my reaction looked like, and I'm sorry if it has offended you, my lord. I know I didn't exactly imply anything of the sort at the time, but I do appreciate your sincerity – you told me the plain truth, and you didn't try to embellish it or mislead me. I see now it shows that you have more respect for me than many a man I have known does. But truth is even I did not know then where my horrified behaviour came from. Since then I have had some time to think, and... and I've realised it wasn't the idea of marrying you that so shocked me."

"Then what was it, my lady?" Éomer asked, growing more amazed at her words the longer she spoke. There was wisdom in her insight as he had rarely seen in one so young, and he began to feel that she was a woman of rare grace and dignity.

"It was just... it was feeling like I was given no choice. And it would be a lie if I claimed that injured pride did not play a part in it. I thought you would never have offered for my hand – in fact, you would not even have noticed me – if the last night hadn't happened. Few people have ever taken me seriously, my lord; I have always been just the little sister of three shining princes. And then the one man whose good opinion I desired above anyone else's in the world was there in my reach, and yet it didn't feel like you truly saw me as..." she explained, but began to hesitate towards the end of her sentence.

"Saw you as what?" he asked, trying not to speak too heatedly. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her – even though it was starting to sound she was much braver than one might have guessed.

"As someone with a mind of their own. As a person and not a duty", said the princess, and at last she looked at him again, her eyes shining like stars of the night sky. In a softer voice, she added, "As someone who has loved you since the moment we first met."

For the longest time, Éomer could only stand there, stunned into silence. She... loved him? This soft-spoken, well-bred lady loved him, a coarse horselord of the North? Had anyone else made such statement that Imrahil's daughter would have fond feelings for him, he would immediately have dismissed it either as a joke or a lie. In fact, her previous actions made it hard to believe even when she muttered it out loud herself. But as he searched her face and eyes and saw no dishonesty or falsehood there, and so far he had not seen anything in her that would mark her as untruthful. And did he not understand pride and violent reactions it could inspire when injured? When looking at her initial response from this perspective, he at last understood it perfectly.

"I admit it's probably in part a childish kind of admiration", she continued and her voice grew embarrassed. "But my lord, I do wish to get to know you better. And you are on my mind too often, and too much in ways that cannot be just a child's attraction."

If possible, he felt even more bewildered. This morning, when she had fled in tears, he would never have expected to receive this confession from her within the hours of the same day. But there was also something else accompanying it... some male instinct waking and urging him to answer the invitation he heard in her voice. Too much in ways that cannot be just child's attraction... Béma, what a wonderfully dangerous thing to announce to a hot-blooded man in a moonlit garden! However, he had to behave now and treat her courteously, especially when he sensed how much courage it had taken to admit her feelings to him.

"My lady, why haven't you told me sooner?" Éomer was at last able to ask, his voice coming out hoarser than he had meant. His eyes were fixed on her face, pale in moonlight. How hadn't he noticed before how very delicious her mouth was, or how graceful was the curve of her neck as it connected to her shoulders? It was as though he had never looked at her properly before now.

"Because I was scared of what you would answer... that you saw me as nothing but a silly little girl enamoured with the stories about you. Or worse: you'd think I was simply after your crown. I didn't know how to tell you. And today... well, like I said, my pride got in way", she answered and looked down. Her voice had become unsure once more, and he could guess the reason. She was growing scared again, dreading his answer and expecting it to be a dismissal. At once, he knew he needed to be as gentle with her as he possibly could. It was not often that a woman like her offered her heart so sincerely – only a cruel or a foolish man would crush her hopes and mock her, and Éomer was neither. Yes, there was fire in her, but also insecurity, born and fed by the constant feeling of being left in the shadow of others. And he knew he would love to see what became of her if the former was given a chance to grow, if he received her sincerely, not as a duty but like she asked: as a person. As a rather breath-taking realisation it came to him that he had the means and the chance to do just that.

"My lady Princess", Éomer started softly, reaching his hand for her shoulder. He felt her shiver under his touch, but she didn't shy away from him. He took a breath and continued, "My lady, I cannot say that I have considered you like a man considers a woman before this day. But past ten minutes, you have established your character in my eyes in ways some have failed to do though they have been given years of time. And to tell you the truth, it's not hard for me to see a life where you are my queen – in fact, I have already imagined it and found it good. If you wish to get to know me, I am happy to oblige, given that you let me know you as well. I do believe we can make this work. With your permission, I will contact your father and ask for your hand."

"Yes", she whispered breathlessly, and he knew he had said the right thing: dread and uncertainty were now gone from her. Her eyes were huge and excited, and he realised how easy it would be to get lost in them. She continued, "I would like that very much."

The young king smiled. When he looked at this princess and saw the brightness of her gaze, something hopeful expanded in his heart – something new and unfamiliar. For months he had avoided the topic of finding a wife, and now he was glad to have waited. The high lady standing before him was young and she had not yet been given a chance to try her wings, but Éomer knew he was looking at a kind of woman that only came a man's way once in a lifetime.

"My lady, I must ask you one thing", he said then, for the night was fair, he was happier than he had thought possible this morning, and before him there stood a rather lovely young princess. And, if they were to be married, he wanted find out this thing now and not wait in exasperation until the wedding day.

"What is it, my lord?" Princess Lothíriel asked him curiously, stepping a little closer as though she already knew what he had in mind.

"May I kiss you? For as the wife of a barbarian king, you should expect to be kissed much and often", he told her, and even in moonlight he got the impression she blushed. But she didn't turn away in embarrassment or horror. She met his eyes much more boldly than he'd have thought.

"Well, then I may as well as start and practice, my lord", she answered and a smile played across her lips. Yes, he had been right to assume her sense of humour would bear such a shameless statement. Éomer didn't think many women he had met in this land would have responded in like manner.

At any rate, her answer had something warm swelling in his chest, though there was also a word of caution: she didn't know what she fuelled with her boldness, and they didn't even have Imrahil's formal blessing yet! He'd have to be very, very careful now.

But the princess looked up at him with expectant eyes, and her lips were slightly parted in breathless excitement. She had a lovely mouth indeed, very well-shaped for a good kiss or dozen. Yes, he would have his hands full with this woman, and already he felt he'd enjoy every minute of it.

So he reached gently to cup her face and tilt it into a bit more accessible angle; there was some difference in height between them, but from last night he knew she would fit snugly in his arms. That promised to be a good thing. Her skin was soft and hot under his fingers, as though she was burning to be kissed. He was happy to oblige.

The Rohir made it soft and tender, as he didn't know if this was her first kiss or not, and at any rate it would have been wrong to let his wilder urges to take control the moment. Maybe time would come for those when she was his wife – already he found he liked the idea – but considering how eventful her trip to Ithilien had been so far, it was better to take things slow. But it was difficult when her lips met his eagerly, and her softness and warmth invited him so sweetly. She moaned quietly and then in an abrupt motion she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself against his chest. Unable to resist the opportunity, Éomer deepened the kiss, desiring now only to get closer to her. Ah, Béma! He had not known what he had asked when requesting for a permission to kiss her!

But it was clear to him then and he was eager and hopeful in a way he had not felt in a long time. Yes, this was the woman and these were the lips for which he could give up all the other kisses in the world.

They were both breathing erratically when the kiss finally ended. On the face of the Princess Lothíriel he saw an expression that was both bewildered and exultant, and her eyes sparkled like never before. It was worlds away from their disastrous conversation this morning and he could hardly believe things had turned out so right after all.

"Yes", the young princess said huskily, still keeping her arms around his neck. "If that is how you barbarians kiss, then I must say that being kissed 'much and often' sounds absolutely delightful."

The young king couldn't help but laugh, both in joy and sheer wonder. What a night this was! In his heart a new song was taking form and he was already anxious to get to know this princess better, to challenge her wit, to make her laugh, and of course kiss her very much.

"What is funny?" Princess Lothíriel asked him, looking up at him with such trust and warmth as he had never seen before in the eyes of any other woman. And for the sincerity in that gaze he knew here was someone eager to know the man behind the war-stories and the mantle of a king.

Éomer smiled. He bent his head to kiss her once more, brief but sweet. There was no need to rush and the wait itself could lead to some very good things. And something told him this princess was worth waiting. Hadn't she patiently waited for him to see the truth?

"Well, I simply did not expect to find a wife in the woods of Ithilien, but I think it may just have been the biggest stroke of luck I've ever had."

The second morning of their stay in Emyn Arnen came with soft, drizzling rain. As Amrothos of Dol Amroth sat nursing his healing tea that was supposed to help with a headache, he considered the weather quite fit his morose mood. As to what caused this state of mind, he was brooding over the fact he still had the audacity to try and drink Captain Éothain under the table. Surely, after all this time he should know better!

He gave a pained sigh and considered the drink before him. It was supposedly meant to help with hangover, but to him its chief quality seemed to be a foul taste and a distinct sensation of betrayal, induced by the failed hope of being relieved of headache. In his defence, things had been remarkably dull in Dol Amroth for past few months, and there hadn't been a chance to drink with his Rohirric friends the first night, so what else could he do?

Be that as it may, Faramir had not been so impressed upon his arrival to the breakfast table, and the Prince of Ithilien had shaken his head and given Amrothos a look that silently announced: "serves you right."

His sigh caused no reaction in Faramir and his lady wife, except for a brief roll of eyes. Amrothos ignored it and sipped more of his tea, thinking about last night. He frowned to himself when he remembered some revelations Éothain had given to him; a wave of brotherly concern mounted in him as he thought of what precisely a Rohirric betrothal entailed. While he trusted in Éomer's good sense and his respectful treatment of Lothíriel, he was not so sure about her. Yes, she was still quite young and inexperienced, but the looks he had spied her giving to the King of Rohan were not those of a girl.

Well, he would just have to chaperone better for her from now on. It wouldn't do if the two got it in their heads to start and work on an heir for Rohan when they had scarcely been betrothed!

Amrothos shuddered and cut the wings of this particular line of thought. Other than that, he did not feel worried or guilty over the whole accidental betrothal. In fact, he was just glad. Even if his siblings often took him for a self-absorbed fool with no sense of subtlety, that was not the whole truth: for he had long known that his sister was quite infatuated with Éomer, though she had spoken to no one of it. Indeed it had seemed to him she had not been able to take off her eyes of the horselord from the moment they had been introduced after the Ring War. How she had begged and pleaded with Father to let her accompany them to Rohan to join King Théoden's funeral escort, and how disappointed she had been to stay behind! And she had insisted on staying in Minas Tirith for the whole of winter, obviously in the hopes of catching at least a glimpse of Rohirric king when he visited Aragorn. But her chance had not come: her shyness, inexperience and even her pride had got in the way. He rather suspected those were also the cause of her initial reaction to what had happened the other night.

Because of this, how could he be concerned or guilty over his part of contributing in the accidental betrothal? It had given Lothíriel a shot with the man she fancied, and he was sure that once Éomer got a closer look at her, he'd fall straight away. Or at least realise her like was not going to come his way again.

His tea was starting to grow cold when the door of the dining chamber was opened and the King of Rohan himself arrived. But when he greeted the three and took seat in the table, Amrothos felt like checking again if it really was him. For there was a fine, self-satisfied smile on his face and he moved with a lightness in his step that had not been there before. The Prince could name only one or two occasions when he had seen his friend looking so truly, openly happy.

"What are you smiling about?" he inquired, leaning his cheek against the palm of his hand and considering the Rohir with narrowed eyes.

"It's a lovely day", Éomer simply said, at which the other three exchanged a glance.

"Brother, it's raining outside", Lady Éowyn pointed out but her statement did not seem to have much of an impact.

"Indeed?" said her brother unaffectedly and reached for a pot of honey to add some in his porridge.

Amrothos was considering asking him who he was and what he had done to Éomer, when the door was opened once more and Lothíriel stepped inside. Even the Prince, who had known of her secret fancy, was surprised to see how radiant and glad she looked like. And how the horselord beamed at her! Abruptly concern rose in Amrothos head; yes, he would have to watch her well. And maybe send her to Dol Amroth on the next ship.

But Éomer got up on his feet and went to greet her, lifting her good hand and kissing it before murmuring some soft words to her. A faint blush blossomed on her cheeks and she looked, if possible, even happier. Then the horselord helped her to sit down in the table before taking his own seat again, and the two appeared almost giddy with joy. Amrothos groaned to himself and considered this had worked out a little too well after all. If the horselord did not tone it down, she would probably start to glow!

"Well, you two surely seem pleased this morning", Faramir commented at last delicately. He didn't seem to know whether to be bewildered or glad, but Lady Éowyn was having hard time concealing her smile.

Éomer and Lothíriel shared a glance, and it was that kind of exchange of looks that marked them as a pair of lost cases. Amrothos suppressed a sigh; he would have to tell Father to set the date of the wedding as soon as possible.

Smiling brightly, Lothíriel looked at Faramir, while with her hand she brushed that of Éomer.

"Haven't you heard? We are getting married."

THE END

A/N: So ends this story. I hope you enjoyed it, my dear readers!

Though this was a shorter fic in my mind from the start, I actually meant to write at least one more chapter. It would have been their reunion in Minas Tirith a few months later, when the betrothal would have been announced formally. However, when I was trying to draft that chapter, it didn't flow well and I didn't like it at all. Moreover, the bit from Amrothos POV in this chapter felt like more of an ending to me. Ultimately, I discarded the incomplete final chapter and decided to end it here. After all, the conflict is now resolved and our characters are quite happy.

One reason I wanted to include little something from Amrothos perspective was because the part he played in the accidental betrothal, but on the other hand, I also wanted to show you why he wasn't very worried or sorry about it. Like he thinks to himself, he has his subtler moments, and so he was well aware of Lothíriel's crush. So in the end, he was just glad she was finally getting her chance with Éomer, even if it came in a way he hadn't expected.

I hope that her explanation to Éomer makes as much sense to you as it did to me. She has indeed long fancied him, and I know it might seem like she should have been immediately happy about the betrothal. However, to me that would not have seemed like a genuine or sincere reaction, especially because her feelings, while still partly immature, are real. In other words, she was hurt because she feared he'd never genuinely feel the same for her. And her pride of course plays a part.

In any case, I hope you have enjoyed this story as much as I did writing it! As for whether I will be posting a new story soon, I am planning on doing just that some time next week.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

eschscholzia - I rather think he was already getting very comfortable with the idea of marrying her! ;) I hope this chapter explains Amrothos' reaction a little more.

Guest - Thank you! :)

Mary07 - What can I say? Sometimes I just live on cliffhangers! ;)

Nerdanel - Hopefully this chapter gives more light on his reaction! Sure, he can be a bit mad at times, but he's not wholly blind. Also I hope you enjoyed the final confrontation!

EStrunk - I must admit, I rather enjoyed that bit as well! Amrothos can be annoying but he means well. I hope his musings at the end of the story explain why he wasn't very remorseful.

Anon - I think it was indeed her resolve that was missing! She was rather afraid of heartbreak, because she knew that she is falling in love with him but doesn't think there's a chance of him doing the same for her.

Lothíriel is young indeed, but I wouldn't be too hard on her for thinking in those particular terms. After all, she has grown up in the middle of men who she feels have always treated her differently than one another and left her, though not perhaps intentionally, in their shadow. She hasn't had a chance to be accepted by someone like Éomer, who isn't her family. However, she does recognise that her feelings for him are at least in part a childish admiration, which I hope shows that while she's young, she still knows herself and has enough wisdom to understand what she feels.

Jo - He is wonderful indeed. :)

shine lots - Thank you!

meldisil - Hopefully this chapter will explain his reaction! :) Glad to hear you like the story!

Guest - Thank you for your comments! I think now that Lothíriel and Éomer finally understand one another, they will both be quite happy with what has happened. :) Also please don't apologise for you English! I'm not a native speaker either, so I completely understand if it's hard. I'm just grateful you took time to review anyway!