Title: A Light That Endures

Genre: Romance/Adventure/Angst

Rating: M

Pairing: Éomer/Lothíriel

Disclaimer: The Lord of The Rings is the property of J. R. R. Tolkien and his estate. Aside from some original characters, I own nothing. This is a work of fanfiction, written for the enjoyment of myself and others. No financial profit is made by writing this.

Summary: Of old days of the Mark the tale of Lion of Rohan and his Lady fierce and brave is remembered and beloved by Eorlingas beyond any other... This is a story of being lost and found, and discovering your redemption. Here is a Light that Endures.

Author's Note: And here comes the first installment of A Light that Endures!

This one has been brewing in my mind for a while now, and I've been working on it whenever I've needed a break from House of Sun. I'm not quite finished yet, though I have the whole storyline sketched, so it's mostly just a matter of writing it now. I'm having a bit of difficulty with Wild Hearts but I figured out I'd momentarily break my radio silence with this prologue.

Truthfully speaking this was actually two separate stories in the beginning. When I was thinking over them I realised characterization and personalities of Éomer and Lothíriel were so similar in the two pieces (possibly as a result to thinking of two stories at the same time) that they could even take place in the same universe. As a result I decided to put together the two, and they are more or less "how Lothíriel and Éomer met each other... and what happened next". "What happened next" turned out far too much to be covered in just one part and eventually a split was needed. However, the consequences of events in this story were not only unexpected but of such significance that a fourth sequence to tie in three other parts was needed. As a result this story is not for those who love short tales.

The story will follow canon timeline up until the year 3021 of Third Age, from where I will leave on an AU path, but at the beginning of the story that should not matter, and the first part, I imagine, can be read as it is. As a word of warning it must be said that some dark themes will be discussed later on, with possible character death(s) and violence. This piece is rated M for a reason, though that reason might not become clear quite so quickly.

The good thing about fanfiction is that in it the romantic heart has freedom to imagine things that in reality would probably seem impossible or at least very unlikely. I do not expect to take this as Truth on how things work. Though it is not relevant for the Part 1 of the story, there are going to be some darker themes later on, and I fully understand if you'll feel contradictory about them. But again, this is a work of fanfiction and a work of dream. This is a place, I think, where we can believe for a little while that true love doth conquer all.

Write me of hope and love, and hearts that endured.

- Emily Dickinson

"Of Ednew and Éadig: The History of the Later Days of the House of Eorl". Excerpt by Wigmund, the King's scribe in Edoras, on the year 175 Fourth Age.

"... But of those old days of the Mark, the days after Great War of the Ring, one tale is remembered and beloved by Eorlingas beyond any other. That is the tale of Éomer Éadig and his Lioness fierce and brave; 'tis a story of his long journey south, how he was lost, and how she found him again. Here is their history, as it was penned down by their granddaughter Elsunn the Wise. Reader, take this tale, and slowly read..."

Prologue

April 65 Fourth Age, Edoras

The bow rested on a wooden stand, looking a lot like it was preserved there as a relic.

Well, perhaps it wasn't so wrong to call it a relic. It certainly did bear a great significance in the eyes of the one who had carried it, for it had been there to get her through danger and war. Not to mention it wasn't the usual Gondorian or Rohirric bow: it was Elven-made.

Prince Legolas himself had made this bow, and Princess Elsunn had heard it had been made into the likeness of the Elf's own bow of the Galadhrim which Lady Galadriel had once given him (though Grandmother would tell you it was smaller). But this one was made of the light wood from Ithilien and as far as Elsunn could tell, the string was of Legolas' own hair. He had given it to Grandmother many years ago as a betrothal present... perhaps some Elven foresight had come to him, and he had known she'd need it. Be it as may, it was a gift a king could have been proud to receive.

It was a fine weapon and some may even have said its value was wasted by sitting on this stand. But then, Grandmother would never have allowed anyone to touch it. The bow had been there with her during the most important journey of her life. Sometimes Elsunn wondered if the blessing of Elven hands had contributed to that great adventure... and brought back not only Grandmother, but also that which she had sought.

It was one story Eorlingas loved to hear, for a journey so fantastic sounded like something out of legends. But Elsunn had only ever heard her grandparents telling bits and pieces of it. Though it was a tale beloved by their people, for them it all was more than just a story... and Grandfather in particular had preferred not to speak much of it with others than his wife.

"What are you thinking of, my dear?" asked Grandmother, distracting Elsunn from her thoughts. She looked up from the bow and to the aged face of her dear old Grandmother.

It was probably because of her Númenórean and Elvish blood that Grandmother looked the way she did. Obviously she wasn't young anymore, but Grandfather at that age had seemed somehow older than she did now. Though years had turned her long hair white, she could have passed as someone ten years younger; in her eyes there was still light and spirit for which she was famed. Dressed in that night blue shade she had worn since the day Grandfather had died, she was quite obviously the Queen. Even though she was a widow now and a new king ruled in Meduseld, it was still considered that the title of the Lady of the Mark would be hers as long as she lived. After all, she existed in that place between a legend and reality where normal rules did not apply; she belonged to Rohan and Rohan belonged to her, for she was the woman men called Lioness.

"I was just looking at your bow, Grandmother. I thought of all the wonderful adventures you had bearing it", Elsunn said and gave a smile to the old woman.

"Adventures they certainly were", said Grandmother softly, "but they did not feel too wonderful at the time. But then, that is probably true for all great journeys."

"I'd like to hear about it some time. The whole story, I mean. You speak of it so rarely", Elsunn said carefully.

A small smile, the kind that she couldn't quite read, appeared on Grandmother's face. The old Queen took Elsunn by hand then and lead her to two chairs by the window; the light of early afternoon flooded in and made Grandmother's hair shine.

"It was an experience very profound and personal", she began slowly once they were both seated, "and some of the things that happened felt to me like they only belonged to your Grandfather and myself. And he... to him it was even more difficult. He was a man who did not like showing weakness, so to him speaking of a time when he was on his weakest point was not easy."

Elsunn thought of that for a moment. It was hard to believe Grandfather had ever been weak. After all, in the memory of Eorlingas he was remembered as one of the greatest kings to ever have ruled the Mark... a true lion among men. She too remembered him as a great man, and though he had been very old when he had fallen into his last sleep with his family around him, he had never seemed anything less to her than the legendary king the songs spoke of.

"But he did tell Father of it, did'n't he?" asked Elsunn.

"He did, as far as I know. Your father is one of the few people who live today and know his side of the story... I understand he also shared it with Holdwine Meriadoc before he died", Grandmother confirmed. "But your father knows what it meant to us – how we fought, and how difficult it was to find redemption."

Elsunn frowned. All the stories she had heard had always insisted it had been a great adventure... but perhaps it was more like one of those very old legends from the mists of time, the kind where beauty and love and grief mingled. Perhaps Grandfather had not lost his hand on a quest to win a Silmaril. But that was not to say he had not lost something on the way.

"I don't know if our story is as great as some would make it, but... to us it meant something I can never put in words. Your grandfather did maintain that he had ventured into the shadow and in a way he did die, and that I brought him back to life. He believed so until his dying day", Grandmother said softly, staring out of the window now. On her brow, great sorrow lay; only then did Elsunn understand how deeply she still grieved for her late husband. And she would grieve to her very last breath.

That was why she would not return to Gondor, though that was the land of her birth. No, she had chosen to stay here, near her children and children's children... and near him, as though somehow his spirit lingered in the Mark. Then again, Elsunn did not know if the Rohirrim would even have let their old Queen leave. In her lived the old glorious days, and the memory of the Blessed King, and she was such a central figure not only in the lives of her children and her children's children but also in all of Edoras and Rohan. Such was the life for a living legend.

Perhaps the things she and Grandfather had experienced were something to forge a bond between the two of them... the kind of bond that would not be broken by death.

She looked at Elsunn then and though the memory of Grandfather was there in her eyes, beloved and dearly missed, she did smile. She continued: "Though it is a troubled story, there is also light there. Light that endures, I think. I sometimes believe I only loved your Grandfather so much because as I saw him on his most glorious, I also saw him at his weakest. I saw the both sides of him."

"But to give you the full story, and for you to understand why I did so fight for him, you must first hear why I fell in love with him. And so we need to start from the very beginning... that is, the night I first met him in the woods of Ithilien. Take a comfortable seat, sweetheart, for it is going to be a long, long story."

A/N: Inspiration for the prologue: Thomas Bergersen - Heart