Chapter 13

When they met for breakfast next morning, Lothíriel asked him if he wanted to come with her to the Houses of Healing. She wished to talk to some of the healers, who were wise in herb-lore, and consult their books and scrolls.

"I know it may not be the most interesting thing to do, so you don't have to come", she said, but he was quick to dismiss her doubt.

"I would love to join you. It was where we first met, isn't it?" he pointed out, making her smile.

But he didn't agree to go with her simply because of some sentimental urge of reminiscing on their first meeting. He was also curious to learn more of her dealings with herb-lore. It was all so far removed from his usual concerns of statecraft and ruling, these glimpses of her world offered a welcome respite.

So together they made way to the Houses of Healing soon after breakfast. Éomer had not visited the place after the day he had met Éowyn there and his sister had taken him on a tour. It felt odd to think of it. He recalled the anxious way he had searched the faces of healers, hoping for the precious glimpse of the woman who had comforted him the night after battle... then he had resigned himself to the likelihood of never seeing her again.

Now that strange maiden walked by his side, talking lightly of all the wondrous things one could learn in the Houses of Healing. Overcome with the need to make sure she really was there, and not just the result of some elaborate dream, he grasped her hand in his own. She fell quiet and looked up at him, and he thought she understood.

Inside the Houses, she met with a few of the healers to ask them some questions, and one major interest of hers seemed to be how to safely transport some cuttings of plants over long distances; he reckoned she was already planning her new garden in Meduseld and was hoping to bring some seedlings with her. She also consulted some books in the small library attached to the Houses, and he was given the task of handing her some volumes on the top of the shelves, which she couldn't reach.

Though he didn't know much of herb-lore, and was mostly just tagging along, Lothíriel did not forget him. At times she would turn to him to explain whatever issue she was talking about with the healers or looking for in the books. She even took him to the workshop attached to the Houses and showed him how to make a salve for tending to burns. If the healers thought it strange that the King of Rohan should be following Imrahil's daughter around in the Houses, they didn't show it. The occasional convalescing patient or a visiting family member they came across on the hallways looked more perplexed to see them.

Although all this was so far removed from his own usual environment, Éomer could see the pleasure of it. There was joy in studying things that grew and using them to make remedies and salves and oils – providing help or just ease in everyday life. It was a positive, helpful thing to do, however small or simple it might seem when one was sitting on some high throne of Men. Watching her skilful hands work with herbs and vials and pots, he couldn't help thinking how most of his life, he had been learning to destroy things.

Perhaps it was no wonder that he felt so drawn to her. When people like him had come through trampling and raging, her kind followed to fix and mend and make anew. In her astute way, she had called him a war king; it only made sense that he would need a queen like her.

Morning passed quickly in this manner, and eventually she suggested they take some lunch before heading back to the Citadel. Apparently, she was in the good graces of the Warden, for they were provided with a basket of goods from the kitchen. Lothíriel led the way to a wide chamber with a view to the garden. It was too chilly to eat outside, so they sat on the window board with space enough for them both and the basket. As it was hours since breakfast, they both were quite famished, and the first few minutes were spent simply on feasting their little luncheon.

But after a while Éomer felt like a suitable moment had finally arrived. At last he was face to face with her, they weren't too much bothered by others listening in as his guards were keeping their distance, and she looked to be in a happy, easy mood.

"We haven't really had a chance to talk about it, and I hope you will understand my curiosity... but the truth is, I don't know much or understand your gift. Have you always seen things?" he asked her. He kept his voice nonchalant, as he did not want to make her feel like his interest in her gift was somehow unseemly or sinister.

She glanced at him but did not seem bothered or taken aback by his question.

"Yes, I have – ever since I was a small girl. It was very confusing, because I didn't understand what it was, nor did I realise others didn't have it", she replied at length, holding her small earthenware cup between her hands.

He frowned at the thought.

"You must have been scared", he observed quietly.

"That I was. But thankfully, my father understood what gift had been given to me. He was of enormous help, even though he couldn't himself see like I did. Yet he taught me to live with my sight... and not hate it, like I might have", she said thoughtfully.

"Why should you hate your sight?" he wondered out loud.

Lothíriel cast him a joyless smile.

"Oh, it would be easy. It will always set me apart from others and because of it, I have never had many friends. It's usually easier to conform, and it takes courage to walk through this world being honestly and unashamedly yourself", she said and sipped her drink slowly.

He considered her words for a moment and found no argument with them.

"I had thought of you being here during the Battle of Pelennor fields... did you know, then, that the war would be won? Did you see it?" he asked her.

She smiled slightly and shook her head.

"I did not. Even the very wise and far-sighted did not know how it would end. Having this gift does not mean knowing all, or even understanding everything that is seen. What must happen will happen, whether I see it or not", she answered at length, taking care in choosing her words. She saw his look, and continued, "But I did know some things would pass if the war was won. For one, I saw you in happier days... and I knew I would meet you again."

"But not that you would agree to marry me."

"Not that part, no."

He regarded her a while, and she looked back at him with those wise, knowing eyes.

"You said it was confusing as a child. Was it very hard for you?"

"Not as hard as it could have been. Like I said, my father helped me greatly. And my brothers loved me and cared for me, no matter how strange I was. So I always felt safe. And sometimes the things I saw... it comforted me", she said, looking outside now.

"What things?" he asked her, and she glanced at him with a strange little smile on her features.

"Some things a woman keeps to herself", she said simply. Éomer was still curious but decided not to prod. That she was his bride did not mean she had to tell him everything. So he decided to ask a different thing.

"Was it hard to keep your gift a secret?"

"Sometimes, though my brothers helped whenever they could. You have seen I can't always hold it back... I forget what I can know and shouldn't know. But it got more serious for the past few years. Father was afraid a word of it would reach Lord Denethor's ears, and I would be brought against my will to Minas Tirith to be his eyes and ears..." she said, shuddering visibly.

"Did he not have the Seeing Stone, though? Would he really have made you his servant?" he wondered out loud.

"When he used the palantír, the Enemy was always staring back, and twisting what was seen. My sight can't be manipulated or shared by others. Lord Denethor would have thought of it as an advantage, I'm sure. Even though I can't decide what or when I see. I think... trying to force it would be harmful", she said and a dark look lingered on her features. He had no idea of how she would know such a thing, but then again, one might as well ask how she even had this gift.

"You won't have to worry about it in Rohan. You'll be as safe as you ever were in Dol Amroth", he told her gravely, holding her eyes with his own.

Her face softened and she reached for his hand.

"I know", said Lothíriel simply and settled back again.

They were silent for a moment, but the quiet did not last for long. Éomer still had questions to ask.

"Have there been others like you in your family?"

She shrugged.

"I don't know, and neither does Father. If there were, they didn't make noise about themselves... which I rather understand. It's easier when people don't know about this gift. Usually, it changes the way they see you. Of course, keeping it a secret might lead to an eccentric reputation, like in my case. Perhaps you think it's strange, but I still prefer it this way", she replied.

He considered this for a moment. Foresight was a gift some of the Dúnedain had: this was known in Middle-earth. Why hide it, then? But then he thought of her point of view. She had lived with this thing all her life, with no one to guide her but herself. Who could possibly understand what it was like for her? The night she had first admitted it to him, she had even momentarily suggested her sight was somehow crooked. And that was not all of it. Many years she had lived in dread of being used for her gift – and suffering harm because of it. Even protected by her father or her future husband, it would always make her vulnerable to some degree. If she thought it was easier to be simply considered a strange woman, how could he blame her or claim otherwise?

"For whatever it's worth, I never thought of you as strange. Or, if I did, it's simply a part of who you are. It doesn't make you any less dear to me. You are a rare, strange, wise woman and for me there is none other while you live and breathe in this world", he said at length, his words coming out slow and thoughtful. He did not guess how it would impact her, and was surprised to see the way her eyes suddenly filled with tears. She brushed away the basket between them and pressed herself against his side and half in his lap. She hid her face against his shoulder and though she did not weep out loud, he could feel her trembling.

"What is it? Did I say something wrong?" Éomer asked her worriedly, pressing one hand gently against her shoulder and the other against the back of her neck. She made a strange little sound that was somewhere between a laugh, a sob and a hiccup.

"Something wrong? Silly man", she muttered and fished for a handkerchief in her little purse. She patted her eyes dry and took a deep breath before looking straight at him again. Her voice was quiet and hoarse when she spoke, "I expected I was to be alone for all my life – that 'the wise fool' was only a bit of nonsense, or a conundrum of some kind. But that he is a real man, who is so sweet and wonderful to me, is sometimes hard to comprehend."

His heart simply melted at her heartfelt words. So he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pressed his lips against her brow. He more felt than heard her letting out a soft sigh as she relaxed there.

"As far as I know, I'm not conundrum", he whispered to her, "but if you ask Éothain, he'll probably agree I am full of nonsense."

She snorted in laughter.

"Well, how else would you be here?" she asked and leant close to kiss his cheek.

He had never known he could feel so tremendously happy.

On the fifth night of the visit, as the company had just finished a dinner hosted by Aragorn and Arwen and was engaged in quiet and pleasant conversation, Éomer considered everything was going very well. So far, through all the events and banquets and meetings, Lothíriel continued to win over the Rohirric company. Her manner was invariably graceful and charming, and she never failed to show them respect. Even so, he did wonder when he watched Lord Ormar escort her from the dining room, and saw that the usually solemn man was laughing at something she had said.

Marshal Elfhelm stood next to the young king and studied this scene in something like fearful awe.

"Béma, what has she done to that old sourpuss? Or do I even want to know?" he muttered under his breath.

Éomer beamed at his friend.

"Do you see it now?" he asked the man, but Elfhelm just grunted in answer before moving to talk with Faramir.

Éomer gloated some more in silence before he approached his bride and Lord Ormar. However, as so often these days, he found himself engaged in a struggle for her time and attention: the company of Rohirric ladies who had come along with their husbands had surrounded Lothíriel and Ormar before he could reach them, and he knew he would have little chance of getting to her for the time being. While he approved of this fast friendship on principle, he wasn't so sure he enjoyed the amount of whispering and laughter that always increased when he got near.

Éowyn was with the ladies as well, and Éomer could not say that he sensed any unease from his sister or his bride. Whether this was because the two women had truly overcome it, or because it was simply easier to hide in company, he wasn't sure.

Knowing Lothíriel would be much occupied for some time, he made his way to Ormar instead. The man smiled wryly at the young king.

"Ah, so we have been both abandoned by the women in our lives", he noted; his own wife was standing right next to the King's bride.

"So it would appear. If I get to have another moment alone with Lady Lothíriel while we are in Mundburg, it will be a wonder", said Éomer and toasted his glass of wine with that of his adviser. "Though of course I'm glad she's making friends already."

"Aye, that is good indeed. She's a charming young woman, but she'll need guidance in the beginning. There are things where you can't be her sole teacher, Sire", said Ormar gravely. Hints of his earlier amusement had already vanished and he wore again his usual serious look.

"Yet I wish I could tell her everything she needs to know. I want to make it as easy for her as I can. Béma knows it was not so for me", said Éomer with a slight shake of his head.

"Judging by what I've seen of your bride so far, I'm sure she will be fine. But as much as you wish to spare her, she will face her own difficulties in time. Every king and every queen has their sorrows, though I'm told they are more easily borne by two sets of shoulders rather than just one", Ormar said evenly. He had been telling Éomer such things ever since he had returned to Rohan as the new king; sometimes he saw the sense in the man's words, but at other times, he was exhausted to death by what felt like empty wisdoms. Even so, he knew Ormar was a capable man, and he was not wrong. As much as Éomer desired it, he knew he wouldn't be able to shield Lothíriel from every mischance.

"So you do approve of her?" Éomer asked now, studying his adviser's solemn features keenly.

"I do indeed. Her family ensures us some highly desirable connections and she seems an agreeable young woman. Yet I wonder if her highest achievement so far is changing your highly obstinate mind, Sire", Ormar replied, and though his features remained as stern as ever, the spark of his earlier good humour appeared in his eyes.

Éomer managed to flash a pained smile, though he kept his comments to himself. As much as he trusted Ormar, he wasn't sure how he could explain that Lothíriel was the very reason he had not agreed to marry as quickly as his council would have liked.

"And Wigmund? What do you suppose his thoughts are?" he asked.

"He's more difficult to persuade, but I expect in the end he will decide you have chosen well. But before he does, you may anticipate he will haggle with Prince Imrahil over Lady Lothíriel's dowry with tooth and nail", Ormar commented, making Éomer chuckle under his breath at his adviser's astute prediction.

"I would be surprised if he didn't. As the King of Rohan, I suppose I should be glad I have such a bloodhound guarding the interests of the crown, but to tell you the truth, I would marry her even if she came with nothing but the clothes on her back", Éomer said quietly. He knew better than to admit such things to Wigmund, but Ormar had more understanding for subtleties.

"Careful, Sire. One might think you don't have Rohan's best interests in mind", Ormar said, though not entirely serious this time.

"If I am your king, then believe me when I say Rohan's best interest and Lady Lothíriel are mutually inclusive", said Éomer and emptied his glass.

"I can well believe it, Sire. Some kings of the Mark have ruled with their cunning, others with their fist. But you, I think, are a king to rule with your heart", Ormar spoke quietly.

Éomer looked at his adviser sharply. Ormar did not usually speak with such sentiment. And for a man who had spent his life in the middle of court intrigue, it was surprising he would make it sound like ruling with one's heart was a good thing. Times really were changing.

"Well, I was not born to it like Théodred. I must make do with what I was given", he said at length, still taken aback by his adviser's unusual confidence.

"Don't we all make use of our best parts? And you, Sire, as mighty a warrior you are, I think your heart is still the strongest thing in you", Ormar stated, much to his king's growing amazement.

"What's this now, Ormar? This is the most you have ever spoken pleasant words to me", Éomer wondered out loud, though he couldn't say he wasn't touched.

Ormar grunted and sipped his drink.

"Too much wine, my lord. Makes me a sentimental old fool", he replied, though there was a glint of wry humour in his ice-blue eyes.

"Now there's something you don't see every day", said Éomer, smiling at his adviser. Often it felt like the only interest his council had was telling him no, and few of them ever spoke of their lives and families. But moments like these he would recall they were men with hopes and hearts, and ultimately, they wanted no more and no less than he did: what was best for the Riddermark.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, Sire. I shall hound you and your plans restlessly once we are back in Meduseld", Ormar said and patted his shoulder.

It was not long after that Lothíriel came to say good night. Usually, she would at least hug him or reach to kiss him, but as ever in public, she simply touched his hand before curtsying and making her way out with her father. He watched her go and let out a sigh, and then decided to talk with Aragorn for a bit before retiring for the night. His fellow king insisted him to stay for at least one more drink, and so it was over an hour later that Éomer finally collapsed in his own bed. Before falling asleep, he thought of the past few days and how well Lothíriel was doing with his company. As strange as she was, so could she be graceful and queenly, and he was more confident than ever that she would find her place in Rohan. He had not expected to walk this path and neither had she, and somehow this fact made it feel absolutely right.

He passed out soon enough and would probably have slept soundlessly until morning, but he was woken up some time later by anxious knocking at his door, and a guard's voice calling for him. It was still dark, so he could not have slept for very long.

"What is it?" Éomer groaned, still half asleep and irritated as he tried to understand what could warrant this disturbance in the middle of night.

"Sire, it is the Lady Lothíriel. She is here and asks to see you", said the guard through the door.

The young king was on his feet in seconds. What could she possibly be doing here at this time of night? The only reason he could think of was something had to be wrong.

He was still barefoot when he stepped into the drawing room, though at least he had found a shirt and trousers to toss on. Lothíriel was standing in the centre of the room, dressed in a simple gown and a cloak and her hair wild and open. She too must have practically jumped out of bed.

"Dear heart, what are you doing here? Is something the matter?" he asked her as he made his way to her and picked up her hands. She looked up at him and he saw her eyes were feverishly bright.

"I'm so sorry to disturb you like this, but I had to come to you straight away – I saw something..." she spoke quickly, words tumbling out of her mouth so fast they nearly collided together.

"Calm down, Lothíriel. Take a deep breath", he told her, his voice firm but even, as though he was commanding a young, anxious Rider. She obeyed, closing her eyes and focusing on breathing for a minute before looking at him again. Already she looked less distraught.

"Now, what is it? Has something happened? Is it your father?" he asked her calmly.

"No, it's not like that. I think I saw something in Rohan... there were men crossing a great river, carrying torches... they didn't seem like Rohirrim. They were looking for something that was taken. If they don't find it... I think they will want revenge", she answered slowly, frowning as she spoke.

"Is it happening now, or is it about to happen? How many did you see?" he asked, already thinking fast on what her words signified. Men with torches crossing a river could only mean Dunlendings coming over the Isen.

"I'm not sure... it was night, but... no, the moon was fuller. I think it has not yet happened. I couldn't tell how many there were", she said and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, as though she could force herself to see more clearly. But he collected her hands between his own again and rubbed them gently, hoping to ease her distress with his touch.

"Have you seen things about Rohan before now?" he wanted to know.

"Not unless you were there. It's different now... something has changed. I think I'm seeing it because of you – because I've intertwined my life with yours", Lothíriel replied. There were certainly implications in that he wanted to consider when time was more convenient, but now he needed to focus on other matters.

"So you saw a group of hostile men entering the Mark, though it has not yet taken place. How soon do you think it will be?"

"I'm not certain. Perhaps a week or so from now, if I saw the moon correctly. I just felt so dreadful when I came out of it, I had to tell you immediately... what if something bad happens while you're here, away from your people?" she asked him in a low, strained voice.

"Aye, that would be bad indeed", Éomer muttered as he gently led her to a chair nearby and had her sit down. Then he began to pace around the room as he thought of what she had just seen, and how he should react to it. Certainly, he trusted her sight and if Dunlendings had aggressions on his side of the river Isen, there was never a more convenient time than when the King himself was away. The idea of this danger creeping over the river made his skin crawl with apprehension. He wanted to be there, right now. And perhaps if he rode as soon as possible, he could go and meet the men she had seen before they could cause any harm in Westfold.

However, what was he going to say to Éothain, his Riders, and the rest of his company? They would wonder at his sudden whim of riding back to Rohan in haste, especially when he and Lothíriel had been so obviously delighted to see each other again. He didn't want to lie, but neither could he tell his party that his bride was foresighted and she had warned him of trouble in Rohan. It had been his promise to her, to keep the knowledge of her gift to himself.

There were no good alternatives here. If he said and did nothing, then the party she had seen would enter the Mark unchecked, and who knew what damage they were going to do until Erkenbrand stopped them? Westfold could take no more fire and war. And yet, what would his Riders and his advisers make of it when he suddenly decided to race back home without even giving a good reason for it?

Éomer sighed. His first duty was to Rohan and his people; questions could be dealt with later.

He turned to look at his bride, who sat quietly watching him. Her eyes were wide and anxious as she waited for his decision.

"Would you be very disappointed if I left at dawn?" he asked her gently.

"For myself, yes. But you must do your duty. This warning was given to me for a reason and if you did not heed to it, then you wouldn't be the man I know you are", she said in a soft, resigned voice.

He went down on one knee before Lothíriel and took her hands in his own. He kissed them both and closed his eyes, knowing full well that he wouldn't see her again until spring. The thought made him feel helpless and frustrated but at the same time, he knew this was but the first of many times he would have to put Rohan before his love for her.

"I'm sorry. I wish we could have had more time", he said, still holding her hands in his own.

"So do I, but at least we got a couple of nice days before spring. It is not far off now", she consoled him and pressed a kiss on his brow.

"Easy for you to say. You see further ahead than I do", Éomer muttered and raised himself so that he could kiss her properly. But he could not let it go for very long if he meant to make sure he and his Riders could depart at dawn. Elfhelm might stay behind with the lords and ladies of the company; they wouldn't be prepared to travel with haste.

"I should send one of my guards to take you back home", he said to her as he stood up again.

"No, I'd rather stay here and wait for the dawn. I'll just be restless if I go home, and in any case I wish to send you on your way properly", Lothíriel said, shaking her head.

"It's still hours before the dawn, though. It won't be comfortable here... though I suppose my bedchamber is available for the rest of the night", he said, glancing at the half open door of that room. Had the situation been something different, he would have lingered in the idea of her in his bed much longer, but his mind had already shifted into working mode and things needed to get done.

She smiled slightly and rose as well.

"Thank you, dear. If I fall asleep, wake me up before you go", she insisted, touching his wrist for a moment.

"I wouldn't go without saying anything", he reassured her firmly.

When she had closed the door behind her, he began to work. He sent for Éothain, Elfhelm and for Lord Ormar and Lord Wigmund. He would ask the Marshal and the advisers to stay behind, but at any rate they ought to know he was to leave at dawn.

His captain did not keep him waiting for long. Éothain arrived, looking rumpled but alert, and his eyes were bright and keen as though he had not been sleeping at all.

"Is something the matter?" asked the Captain as soon as he was through the door.

Éomer himself was studying a map he had spread on a table nearby, calculating how quickly he and his men could ride, and how many stops on the way they could afford. Lothíriel thought it was at least a week before the men she had seen would cross the Isen.

"Do you trust me, Éothain?" he asked without turning to face his friend.

"With my life, if need be", Éothain replied without hesitation.

"Then I will have to ask that you make no questions about what I'm going to tell you. You must believe I'm saying this for a good reason and you will soon understand why it's necessary", Éomer explained slowly, still not looking at his captain.

"You have my attention", said the Captain, his voice full of barely contained curiosity and perhaps a bit of alarm.

"We need to be ready to ride at dawn. I'll be taking my guard with me, but the rest of the party will stay here. We'll head straight for Edoras, and then to Westfold. We'll have to make haste on the way", Éomer said, finally looking at his friend and watching for his reaction.

Éothain looked at him in surprise and the young king could practically see questions springing to life in his friend's eyes. Before the man could voice any of them, he continued to talk.

"No, it's not because of any offence and no, I have not fallen out with Lady Lothíriel. In that regard everything is perfectly fine. This has to do with the Mark and the well-being of our people", he said quickly.

A frown grew on Éothain's face.

"Has something happened back home, then?" he asked.

"Not yet. And if we hurry, nothing will", Éomer replied. He hated the awkward feeling that had come over him for not being able to tell the plain truth. He and Éothain had never kept secrets from one another, but it was the only way he could do right by his bride.

The Captain regarded him in silence for a long moment. What he truly made of his king's unusual reticence and the abrupt decision to ride back to Rohan did not show on his good-natured face.

At length Éothain let out a sigh.

"Well, you did ask me if I trusted you, and I said yes. I won't say I don't wonder at this command, but you are my king and if you say there's a good reason for this command, then I believe you", he said at length, bowing his head.

Éomer relaxed somewhat at hearing this response. At least his captain was behind his decision, and with Éothain's backing, the men would comply without questions, too.

The rest of the night passed without any sleep for the young king. He met with his Marshal and two advisers, each of whom seemed suspicious at his unexpected decision to ride home, and then had a brief talk with Aragorn. To his fellow king he admitted to expecting some kind of an attack against his people, but he did not reveal where this apprehension came from. Aragorn promised to use his Seeing Stone and look out. Fostered by Lord Elrond in Rivendell of the Elves, he appeared to wonder much less at strange premonitions that came at night. Some food was sent to his rooms as he would not be able to eat breakfast and Aragorn reassured him provisions would be ready for the King's Company before they set to road.

Close to dawn, Éothain left to rouse the men and Éomer's squire arrived to help him with his armour. Thankfully, there had been enough time for the lad to clean and oil the gear after their journey in heavy rain. Still, a sense of resignation grew on him as Guthlaf added one piece after the other, working over the buckles and fastenings with practised speed. All too soon his squire was finished and outside, the world was grey in the moment before dawn.

Éomer sighed and knew he had to get moving. Horses and men would be ready soon and haste was needed. Quietly – well, as quietly as he could in full armour – he made his way to the bedchamber.

Lothíriel had curled up in the bed and she looked unbearably sweet as she dozed off there. When she raised her head, there was a sleepy look in her eyes before it passed.

"Dawn is near and we are to leave soon", he said, for what else was there? With a heavy heart, he picked up his saddlebag and collected what few things he had left around; usually while travelling, he kept most of his belongings inside the bags, because one never knew when need arose for a hasty departure. His years as a Rider had taught him to be always as ready as possible to ride at short notice.

"Very well", said she as she sat up on the bed and watched him move around in the room. When his saddlebag was ready, he turned to look at her again.

She reached her hand for him and said, "Come here."

He took her hand and went to his bride, letting her pull him to sit down next to her. Now looking at her properly, an ache grew in his chest, and frustration for knowing how long he would have to wait for this precious woman. It's just months. Just months. You've done this before, you can do it again.

"Stay safe on your road", she said softly as she cradled his hand between her own, her slender fingers tracing invisible paths on his calloused swordsman's fist.

"Any insight on that regard?" he asked her wryly, at which she smiled.

"I think you will be fine. But remember, even I don't know everything", Lothíriel reminded him.

"You don't? But I'm so often told that women know everything", he murmured before pressing his free hand against the back of her neck and pulling her into a kiss. She breathed a gasp against his mouth and surrendered instantly.

It went on so for a while, and for a moment he forgot all about the journey ahead. Then suddenly she moved and in a swift motion, she positioned herself astride in his lap. A low, deep growl escaped from his throat before he even knew it, but the sound vanished as soon as she caught his lips again with her own

He almost forgot himself right there, for he had never wanted her quite as painfully as he did then. She was soft and supple against his hands, which roamed boldly across her body, and as seconds passed he grew more and more uncomfortable in his gear. A fierce desire rose within, urging him to tear off the bits and pieces of armour that Guthlaf had so meticulously fastened on him – to get closer to her. And she was not helping at all, what with the way she pressed herself so close to him, and nipped at his lower lip, and the sounds of her little sighs against his skin... it was getting next to impossible to recall why he should hold back.

But of course such a moment could not continue endlessly. Somebody knocked at the door, and then Éothain's voice called through: "Éomer? Are you ready? The men are standing by."

Éomer and Lothíriel broke apart as though a pair of children caught doing something forbidden. Both were breathing heavily at this point, and he wondered if her heart was pounding the same way as his. He stared at her, and she stared straight back. She did not look at him like some ravished maiden would. Rather, her gaze was bold, like that of a woman who knows her desire and is not ashamed to show it. Dizzily he thought of the time back in Dol Amroth and the stolen kisses in the night; how wary and cautious she had been, and how worried about being discovered. It was as if she had been transformed.

"We should probably stop, before your captain comes and throws me out", she said, having regained her voice before he did. She made no move to remove herself from his lap, though.

"Aye", he agreed hoarsely, hands still firmly against her hips. Those marvellous curves just beneath his palms... for a moment, he considered they just might need some manhandling from Éothain to be able to leave this situation.

She shifted, trying to get up on her feet, but he held on tight to her still. Lothíriel smiled and took support of his shoulders.

"Éomer? Are you all right in there?" Éothain asked loudly from behind the door.

No, he was not all right, but what choice did he have? With a groan, he allowed her to leave his lap.

"Just a minute", he said to his captain as he hauled himself into a standing position. The clothes against his skin felt hot and itchy, too tight in certain parts, and he felt a bit disoriented. But his bride was less addled. He was still trying to get his bearings when she was already lifting up his saddlebags and offering them to him.

When he received the bags from her, she smiled slyly and said, "You know, there is something about kissing a man in armour. I hadn't realised that before now."

A violent shiver went down his spine and straight into the pit of his stomach.

"Well, I'm glad to be one to help you grasp it", he said in a low, hoarse voice. "But the next time we do this, I hope there's much less between us."

Now he spied a faint blush on her cheeks.

"I will not say another word, lest your captain barges in and accuses me of holding you back with my flirtations", she told him firmly.

"Probably a good idea", he agreed, because the longer this went on, the harder it became to leave. And he should be on his way by now: light was growing outside.

Éomer took a deep breath and tried to collect his thoughts. He had a long day ahead of himself and delaying wouldn't change that fact. As painfully lovely and tempting as she was, he had to take his leave of her.

"Come with me outside? I want to make it absolutely clear I'm not leaving like this because of you. Or, at least not because of you in the sense that they might expect", he said, giving her a lopsided smile.

She nodded quietly and followed him outside. Éothain raised an eyebrow when he saw them emerge together, but said nothing. Éomer cast him a steady look, though he knew his captain would not utter a word of it.

"Shall we get going?" asked the young king nonchalantly, and without a word, Éothain handed him his helmet and his cloak.

They made their way outside. The hour was still so early, the only people they met on the way were guards of the Citadel. Lothíriel moved so silently that Éomer actually wondered if anybody paid heed to her at all. Maybe that was why she was so good at going where she pleased unnoticed.

The eastern sky was growing pink when Éomer came outside. Yet the hour was still and quiet and he shivered to think he too should be in bed right this moment. But the road awaited and that was an unchangeable fact.

His Riders were expecting him just outside the Citadel. Briefly he studied some of their faces, but none seemed terribly suspicious or surprised; if their king wanted to ride in haste at dawn, then that would be, and they made no questions about it. Not a few of them glanced at Lothíriel, though, and probably wondered how she was here at such an hour.

Before turning to her, Éomer faced one of the guards of the Citadel.

"Once my company and I have departed, will you make sure the lady finds her way safely back home?" he asked the guard, who immediately bowed his head.

"Absolutely, my lord", he promised.

Satisfied with the response, Éomer now turned to look at his bride. She had followed him silently as a shadow and her eyes were wide and serious as she now regarded him. Yet the distress of when she had first come to his rooms to warn him was utterly gone. She knew he was up to the task and had nothing more to worry about; her faith in the future, although she said even she didn't utterly know it, was strange and inspiring at the same time.

"I shall see you in spring", he said to her, though it sounded wrong to him; there were a thousand things he ought to say, but only this he could speak out loud.

A slight smile lit her features.

"I know", said Lothíriel gently. She raised her hand and pressed it against his cheek, and in her eyes were all the unsaid things his own heart held that moment.

So he pulled her tight to him and kissed her, hard and urgent, thinking of spring and that bright, green day she would finally be his own. At the end of it, he pressed his forehead against hers.

"Do you see it?" he asked quietly.

"Glimpses, maybe", she whispered back.

"Will you tell me about it?"

She smiled.

"What would be the fun in that?" she asked back.

He grumbled under his breath and kissed her one more time. Then he took one more breath of her hair and turned away, seeking Firefoot with his eyes. Thankfully his stallion was waiting close by. He had delayed the departure long enough.

Éomer mounted his horse and cast one more look at Lothíriel. She stood still and quiet, but she smiled at him, and that was the image he took with him when he finally left the White City behind.

To be continued.

A/N: Here is an update! As you know, this was actually supposed to be a part of last chapter, hence the rather speedy update this time. As you can see, a split was very much necessary.

All the same, I did enjoy writing the scenes in this chapter, particularly Éomer's troubled thoughts on how to react to Lothíriel's warning. Certainly, he trusts her to tell the truth, but it's also difficult to explain to his own people why he suddenly wants to ride out.

On the other hand, it was also nice to write him and her being sweet and tender between one another, even if he had to leave at such a short notice - but also the more sensual side of their relationship, which is definitely developing nicely and making certain someone very frustrated. ;)

Thank you for reading and reviewing! Your comments are always most appreciated. :)

xXMizz Alec VolturiXx - Thank you!

Simplegurl4u - Thanks! I think they both are indeed straightforward in that regard, and don't care so much for ceremony, especially when it comes to one another.

I'm sure neither of them would have minded her making an appearance for his bath!

Mary07 - You guessed right! Hope you like it!

fantasticferret - Thank you! I rather enjoyed writing about these other Rohirric characters, too, and I'm sure they will be seen again in future. :)

Boramir - Thanks! You write down some very interesting thoughts. Éomer probably does have a keen finger on the pulse of the people, if you get what I mean - and it appears he's not the only one keeping eye on events in Rohan!

I think you're probably right about his support among his people. His loyalty and sense of duty to Rohan, his parentage and position even before the war, and emerging alive and victorious from it, would probably make him a popular king from the start. But whether his rule (and Lothíriel) shall be threatened by any sinister plans, we'll see!

sailor68 - Thank you! I'm trying to get there, but so much seems to be going on before it! I promise we'll see the wedding soon enough.

EStrunk - Thanks! I think he's definitely starting to learn to cover for her and navigate situations involving her sight, although he maybe doesn't realise yet he's doing it. It's been interesting in this story to explore his involvement with statecraft and kingship.

PilotDante - I hope you continue to enjoy the story! I can definitely promise there's a lot more to come yet. :)

Jo - :)

sai19 - Thank you! I seem to have so much to say in this story, it's good to hear it's nevertheless flowing well!