Chapter 32

Edoras, May the 10th, 3021

Edoras had awoken under a dark, bleak grey sky. Fog rose from the surface of the Snowbourn, turning the green valley into a white, gloomy expanse. Normally, she would have enjoyed it, just like she enjoyed watching the storms battering the palace in Dol Amroth. But today, the weather just added to her anxiety.

The thought of her family and especially of her father had weighted heavily on her over the past month. She had spent entire nights staring into the darkness, asking herself how could have she been so thoughtless. She did not regret having run away, on the contrary: it had been just what she had needed. But things could have been done differently, she could have found a way to let them know she was alive and well.

But she hadn't.

Just the thought of what her father must have gone through, was crushing. She remembered once, many years before, when the ship Elphir had been sailing on had gone missing. She had a vivid memory of those days, of the angst, of the silent dinners, of the time spent staring at the horizon. It had felt as if the whole Palace had been holding its breath, and only when Elhpir's ship was finally spotted, had life gone back to normal. Four days: he had been delayed of four days due to the hull of his ship been damaged during a storm, and yet those four days had felt like an endless agony.

She had been gone for months.

Sighing impatiently, she leaned over and followed with her eyes the road leading to the gates: it curved gently and at the far corner, it rounded a cottage. When she had first arrived in Edoras, it had been in a poor state. But it had been renovated during the past summer, its roof built anew, and though she could not see it from there, she knew the inside had been largely improved as well, turning it into a cozy, warm house. Holdwyn had been overly excited when she had showed her the place.

She stared at the corner of the cottage, wishing it wasn't there. Had it been built somewhere else, she could already see it: the Amrothian party, with her father at the front, making their way towards Meduseld.

By her side stood Éomer, his eyes too fixed on the same spot: if he was nervous, he was hiding it well. Indeed, he looked like the epitome of the King of Rohan. The day someone would weave a tapestry to celebrate Éomer Éadig, that was how he was going to be depicted. A red tunic with gold embroideries, a dark green cloak, his hair loose on his shoulders, his expression calm, proud and intense at once. And then there was her: the portrait of anxiety, barely able to resist the urge to pace up and down the terrace, her hands nervously clasped together one moment, checking her hair for the umpteenth time the next.

As if her father would care about her hair.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to regain some sort of confidence. It was then that Éomer gently nudged her: her eyes snapped open and finally, she saw him. Atop his grey stallion, her father was rounding the corner. He lead his horse to the foot of the stairs and dismounted: he passed the reins to a stablehand, barely acknowledging him, and then he turned, his eyes locking on hers. He climbed the stairs and for each step he made, the enormity of her actions became even more overwhelming.

The first thing she noticed, were his hair. She thought back of the day she had left Dol Amroth: he had kissed her cheeks and hugged her tight before helping her on the carriage that would have brought her to her aunt. We will see each other soon, he had told her, forcing a smile despite the concern in his eyes. He had been wearing a black tunic, a perfect match for his dark hair. There had been a few silver lines, but not too many. Now, it seemed like the situation had reversed.

Next, was the way he moved. Though there was still that innate grace in his movements, something else was there as well. A tiredness, a weariness. And only a few steps from the top, she realized he must have lost weight. The armour conceived it well enough but he was clean shaved and so there was nothing that could hide his sunken cheeks, nor the deep lines crossing his handsome face.

As he reached the terrace, Birthwyn stepped forward: "Here, my Lady", she said, pushing a small cup into her hands.

Standing in front of her, his expression inscrutable, her father waited. Lothíriel swallowed and tried to raise the cup towards him, but her hands were shaking, the mead spilling and staining the sleeves of her crimson dress. Éomer tried to help but her father moved faster, his hands closing around hers: he took the cup, drunk its content and passed it back to Birthwyn.

She was supposed to officially welcome him, but words wouldn't come out of her mouth. "Welcome to Edoras, Imrahil", Éomer came to her rescue.

Her father barely glanced at him, his eyes still boring into her. She swallowed again: her throat felt like the Harad desert. "Welcome to Edoras, father", she managed to get out.

Without saying a word, he walked past them and strode inside the Golden Hall.

She observed him disappearing inside and exchanged a hesitant look with Éomer and Birthwyn. Then, a hand reached for her shoulder. She snapped around and couldn't hide her surprise when she saw him: Elphir. She hadn't expected him to be there, she had thought he would have stayed in Dol Amroth, she had expected only Amrothos and Erchirion to join her father on the long journey towards Rohan. And yet there he stood.

"Sister", he greeted her. She glanced behind him and he guessed her thoughts: "I'm afraid I'm the only brother you'll get to see. Erchirion was at sea when your letter came. As per Amrothos, he…decided not to come".

Once again, she was short of words.

"He will need time, Lothíriel".

"I…yes, o-of course", she stammered. He offered her his arms and together they strode towards the hall. Once inside, she stopped: "I'm glad you came, Elphir. It's good to see you".

"Likewise, sister".

There was much she wished to tell him, but right then she saw a young guard approaching them, a puzzled expression on his face: "My Lady, the Prince asked me to tell you that he would wait for you in the library and that he wishes to speak to you…alone", he finished, throwing a nervous look towards Éomer.

She nodded: "Of course. I shall go to him immediately".

She hurried through the corridors, her steps quick, and as she finally stood in front of the door of the library, she felt almost nauseous. She tried to shake aside the feeling and entered the room: her father stood by the window, hands behind his back, looking at the white sea of fog covering the plains like an impalpable blanket. He turned as he heard the door cracking open: crossing the room in a few, long strides, he towered over her with a deep frown on his face. Lothíriel hesitated, but then he pulled her to him, holding her almost painfully against his armoured chest.

Her arms locked around him and she angrily pushed back the tears prickling at the corner of her eyes: she was responsible for all for this, and she was not going to cry!

As abruptly as it had started, it ended: he released her and stepped back, his eyes misty but angry at the same time. "How?! How could you do such thing?!", he spat out.

"I am sorry, father".

"I did not ask for your apologies, not yet at least! I'm asking you how could you run away the way you did! Without a letter, without a word. Do you know what it feels like, to not know? To not know whether your daughter is alive or dead? Whether she is in peril, whether she has been abducted, or worse! Whether maybe she wishes to come back but she can't, and you are helpless, useless, you can't do a thing!".

"You have never been us…".

"I was! We all were! You made us that way! You have any idea what your brothers went through? Amrothos spent two consecutive months scouting Gondor searching for you. When he came back, for days he barely spoke a word!".

Lothíriel bit her lip: "Elphir said he refused to come…".

"Of course he did! He spent months desperately looking for you, blaming himself for not having come with you to aunt Irviniel. One night, I found him completely drunk in my study: he thought you dead, Lothíriel. He was sure of it, and you know why? She might have been silly enough to run away, but she wouldn't be so careless as to leave us worrying for so long. That's what he told me, Lothíriel!".

"But I was. Careless, selfish".

"Why? Have we given you any reason to behave that way? Do you really not care at all about us, about me, your brothers, your aunt!".

"No, father! Of course I do!", she hurried to say.

"Then how could you flee that way?!".

"I had to get away, father. The way I did it, that was…unforgivable, selfish, stupid. If I could turn back time, I would find a way to let you know I was fine. But I would still run".

"We are not talking of some childish escaped, Lothíriel! Had you come back in a few days, I'd have understood. But you were gone for six months: six!", he cried, his face red.

"I know. And I've needed every single day of those six months".

"Why?", he yelled.

"It had nothing to do with you, father. Please don't think I did what I did because of you, because you had been lacking in any way. You've been the best father a daughter could ask for, but that day, after I confronted Éomer, I felt…lost, I didn't know what my place was anymore. But I knew I wouldn't find the answer at home. I am not trying to justify the fact that I kept you worrying for me, for that can't be justified, can't be excused. I'm only trying to explain why I left, why everything went down that way".

"Then try harder, Lothíriel", he hissed.

Her hands still shaky, she moved to the window: the fog had thickened, engulfing the streets and cloaking the buildings in the lower part of the city. "When Éomer accused me of being responsible for his situation, I believed him. I regretted it all: meddling in Lord Arondir's business, going to Rohan, taking over Erchirion's role during the war. The stupid little Princess who thought too much of herself. I felt like there was a hole inside me and I tried to fill it the way I could. I numbed myself to the point of forgetting it all. And then, Éomer showed up again and what was I supposed to do? Had I been a weaker person, I'd have fallen in his arms and forgot it all. Had I been a stronger person, I'd have come back home and found a way out of my self-imposed misery. I wasn't. Right then, all I wished for was to forget who I was, to leave everything behind: I went under a false name, found myself an occupation, pretended to be who I wasn't. And it took me weeks, months to realize the cowardice of my flight, the selfishness of my silence".

"And yet you don't regret it", he growled back.

"The escape? No. Only my silence: I should have thought about it, I should have found a way to reassure you all. I was focused on myself, on not being found, on forgetting all about Lothíriel so that the past could not harm me anymore. It's stupid, irrational, cruel, I see it now. But at the time, it felt like the only way I had to move forward".

He sighed: "Why, Lothíriel? What have you found in…where? Where have you been?".

"I never left Gondor. I joined a touring theatre company, the Goulding's Crew was his name, and kept moving around with them".

He kept silent for a moment, as if trying to assimilate that new piece of information: "A theatre company?! And what have you found there that you couldn't find anywhere else? That you couldn't find at home?".

"The chance to rebuilt the trust in myself, in who I was. Alone. The opportunity to understand people aren't always black and white: they do mistakes, awful mistakes, and are left living with the consequences for the rest of their life".

"Like Éomer?".

"Like Éomer, like myself. Anger, hurt…they are like a thick fog: they cloud your judgment, they make you feel as if you are alone in your pain. You wander through the mist and once it lifts off, you realize how far you have strayed from your path, you realize the consequences of your actions, you realize you were never alone in the first place. I can't change the past, father. I would if I could, for I have caused you great pain. I know it and I see it", she said, raising a hand to brush his silver hair. "You were right, by running away without leaving any track behind, I made you all helpless, and I can't even start to imagine what you went through. Now, it's my turn to be helpless, for all I can do is tell you that I am sorry, that I am ashamed of what I did and that I hope that you'll be able to forgive me one day", she said, bowing her head and staring at the rug-covered floor. "Just, please: do not hold anybody but me responsible for what I did. Éomer, he…he did wrong, but…".

"But you came back to him regardless" he cut her short.

She straightened up and looked at him: "I love him, father. And I understand why he acted that way, why he told me those things. I forgave him and if anything, it made me love him even more".

An uncomfortable silence descended in the room and then, suddenly, her father turned around and strode out of the room. She winced as the door shut closed and stared at it for a moment, before heavily falling on a chair, one silent tear crossing her cheek.

Frustrated, Éomer crumped the umpteenth piece of paper: if he continued at that pace, Edoras would run out of parchment before dusk. He grabbed the quill but before he could manage to write anything, the door banged open: Imrahil charged in the room and took place in the chair on the other side of his desk, clearly ignoring his attempt to stand up and greet him.

He stood nonetheless: "Did you speak with Lothíriel?".

"Whether I speak or not with my daughter, it's none of your business, King".

Éomer breathed deeply: he couldn't say the Prince's hostility was unexpected, nor undeserved. He wasn't a father – not yet at least, but it didn't take much imagination to know that in Imrahil's shoes, he would have been far less diplomatic with any man who had caused his daughter pain. "I am sorry for what I did to Lothíriel, for what I told her, Imrahil. I know it sounds senseless, but I truly thought it to be the best choice, I thought I was doing her a favour".

Imrahil sighed and rubbed his eyes: "I think a part of me have always known it".

He blinked: "Known what?".

"That you were trying to push her aside because you felt yourself unworthy: it wouldn't have been the first time. And truth to be told, after we came back from Harad, that same part of me, though ashamed, wished you two had never met, wished something better for her than…you".

Éomer stared at the Prince for a moment before sinking back in his chair: Imrahil had always been a perceptive man and he knew him well. Of course he must have suspected something, though maybe he hadn't even realized it himself. "I hadn't planned for things to go that way. I had left one letter for her and one for you, in the hope you would have kept her from following me to Edoras. But things went differently…".

"I've seen many men crippled by the war, Éomer. I've seen them losing their mind, their will to live, the affection for their beloved ones chocked by their self-loathing. I don't think any of us truly knows how we would react under such circumstances, and I pray it will stay that way".

Éomer hesitated, surprised by Imrahil's words, by his unexpected understanding.

The grey eyes of the Prince stared at him, tired, exhausted: "When Lothíriel arrived in Dol Amroth, when I saw her, the shadow of the young woman I knew her to be, I wished you had died, I wished there had been no Elvish antidote to Arondir's poison. Then we would have buried you, we would have mourned you and one way or the other, Lothíriel would have moved forward. But that way…she detached herself completely, she locked herself in a place where none of us could reach her. And at some point, I started to fear she would have never wanted to get out".

Éomer thought back of that day at the tower, of the moment he saw her, thin, frail. The way she had retreated from him, thinking he had been but a cruel trick of her imagination: you are not real…go away…please…

"I understand, Imrahil. And I don't blame you. If I were you, I'd hav…".

"How could she?!", he interrupted him, snapping up from the chair and pacing restlessly up and down the room. "How could she disappear that way?! I have always thought her a caring, thoughtful young woman. And yet she cared nothing for her family: nothing!".

"She is, Imrahil: caring, thoughtful, young. Do you know how everything started between us?". The Prince threw him a murderous look but he went on: "Shortly after she arrived in Edoras, we visited the Hornburg to ensure everything was ready for the upcoming winter. At the time, I…I was struggling. Our situation was difficult, as I'm sure you remember, and I couldn't live with it, couldn't accept the fact that my people were going through so much difficulties, through starving and death, under my leadership. I worked day and night trying to fix everything and often failing miserably, I stopped listening to the advises of my friends for I was convinced they knew nothing, they could not understand how it felt. To sit here and take decisions that will likely determine whether my people, women, children, will survive the winter or not. I started to be tormented by awful headaches, was always in a foul mood. On our last night at the Hornburg, I had a nightmare, one of those that haunted me incessantly, and I must have cried for Lothíriel heard me. She worried something was wrong and entered my room".

He paused, realizing just then that sharing a story involving Lothíriel entering his bedroom at night might not have been his wisest choice. Alas, it was too late. "We knew each other since a few short days and up to that point, I hadn't been particularly…friendly, nor welcoming with her. Any other woman in her place, would have turned her head to the other side and pretended she hadn't heard anything. She didn't: she came in, refused to leave when I asked her to, took a chair and talked to me. In the months that followed she helped me as much as she could, she endured my swinging moods, she put up with my outbursts, and never once had she asked for anything in return, never once had she complained. Gamling adored her, I think he considered her the daughter he had never had".

The image of Lothíriel cradling his death body resurfaced through his memories and he tried to shake it aside: "She is the most caring, thoughtful, wise young woman I have ever met, Imrahil. And she loves you, never doubt that. But after what has happened between us, she…I think she desperately needed to move forward and running away, cutting with her past, was the only way she thought it possible".

"That doesn't justify her", Imrahil retorted.

He raised a hand: "I know. And I'm sure she didn't try to justify herself either. All I'm saying, is don't let one selfish act obliterate everything else. She is still the Lothíriel you know, Imrahil".

The Prince sat heavily on his chair and rested his elbows on his knees: "I wish you tonever get to know what it feels like, Éomer. To have one of your children go missing. To see your sons devoured by their angst while you are barely able to keep yours at bay. As unfair as it sounds, the fact that it was Lothíriel who had gone missing, made it even worse. Boys, we teach them how to defend themselves, we arm them, we prepare them. Girls, what do we do? We lock them in a palace and teach them embroidery! All I could think of, was that she was out there, alone, and that the first prowler could have taken advantage of her!".

Éomer stood up and moved towards Imrahil, resting a hand on his shoulder: "She risked a lot and she was lucky, very lucky to find people who looked after her. Let's stop it at that, let's not dwell too much on what could have gone wrong".

Imrahil nodded: "And what of you, Éomer?".

"Me? Well, if anything, I've tried to learn a thing or two from all this mess. And I never stopped hoping that one day, she would have come back. I would have waited for her for the rest of my days, were it necessary".

"Back on the terrace, you stood together, welcomed us together…".

"We haven't married, if that's what you are asking. Officially speaking, she's not my wife yet".

"And unofficially?".

Éomer swallowed but held Imrahil's eyes: "Yes. That she is".

Imrahil stood and walked pensively around: "And what would you have me do now?".

"I'd have you consenting to our marriage".

The Prince laughed: a humourless, sarcastic laugh. "Do I have a choice, at this point?".

"No", he admitted. "I will marry her anyway, even it means compromising our diplomatic relations".

"Then why asking? Why waiting?".

"Because you are her father, Imrahil. Because without your presence here, without your blessing, this would only be a half wedding for Lothíriel. And for myself".

"So you say", he said, slowly making for the door.

Elphir's head peaked in: "Can I come in?".

Lothíriel strengthened in her chair: "Of course".

Pushing the door open with his shoulder, her brother entered the library, a heavy loaded tray in his hands. She looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"That housekeeper…quite bossy, isn't she?".

She suppressed a chuckle: "Birthwyn forced you to bring me lunch?".

"More or less".

The smell of pork and gravy filled the room and despite all, she realized she felt ravenous. She eyed the giant portion of meat and shook her head: "Ever since I arrived, Birthwyn has been trying to stuff me with as much food as she can. I've tried to explain her that so much food can't possibly fit into my stomach, but it's wasted time!".

"That much food wouldn't even fit into my stomach".

"Maybe we can share it? If you haven't eaten yet, that is", she proposed.

Elphir nodded and took place by the desk: "I haven't. I was with father".

Clasping her hands together, Lothíriel took a deep breath: "I am sorry, Elphir. For having disappeared, for having caused you so much troubles, so much worries".

Elhpir portioned the meat and passed her a mug of water: "It was hard, Lothíriel. Especially for father and Amrothos. They took on spending their evenings locked in father's study, looking over maps and making the wildest assumptions. What if you had been kidnapped, by whom, where would they bring you? What if you had been injured, where would you be taken? It became an obsession, they thought of nothing else, did nothing else. Had something really happened to you, had you never come back, I don't know how it would have ended up for them. You've seen father…".

She lowered her eyes, ashamed: "Yes. He…".

"He has aged of ten years in six months. King Elessar and Queen Arwen visited us a few months back: the Queen, she tried to ease our sorrow. She came to me once, told me that we shall not lose hope, for she felt in her heart that nothing evil had fallen upon you, and that one day, when the time was ready, you would have come back. In far less clear words naturally, for you know Elves: they make even the simplest thing sounds cryptic. She tried to deliver the same message to father, but I doubt he even heard her. As per Amrothos, when she approached him and tried to reassure him, I swear I thought he was on the verge of having a hysterical crisis!".

"How is he now?", she asked, her voice thin.

"Angry. Furious. Hurt. He declared he didn't want to see you, ever again, and then stormed out of the Palace".

"I understand", she said, the taste of the food in her mouth suddenly turning sour.

Elphir reached out and took her hand: "You know him: there is no middle-ground with him. Leaving him behind was probably for the best: had he come here, Valar knows what he could have done".

She chuckled despite the lump in her throat: "Something like trying to murder us?".

"Likely, yes"

She held his hand tight, grateful for his comfort: "Thank you, Elphir. For being here, for…for everything".

"I was also keen on seeing you and besides, I could not have possibly left father alone".

"What of you? How are you, brother? How are Gilraen and Alphros?".

He grinned: "Alphros is still the little tornado you remember. Possibly even worse! Gilraen is fine as well, we wouldn't have got through these past months without her. She took a lot on herself, there have been weeks when she basically found herself running the place alone".

"I'm sure she did an excellent job".

"She did. But it's good that things will go back to normal now, for I doubt she could have kept the same pace over the next few months".

Lothíriel narrowed her eyes, noticing his beaming smile: "Am I mistaken, or are congratulations in order?".

"You are not mistaken, sister. She is due beginning of August".

She laughed and walked quickly around the desk, squeezing her brother in a tight hug: "I'm so happy for you! I bet Alphros is very excited at the idea of having a brother or a sister!".

Elphir snorted: "He declared he would only welcome a brother. Because, and I quote, girls are so…eeeehw!".

"Eeeehw?".

"Precisely".

Their laughter filled the room and when Lothíriel walked back to her chair, she felt her spirit slightly lifted: "What do you think will happen now, Elphir?".

"I don't think father will oppose the wedding. And he will probably agree on staying here until the ceremony. But it will take time for things to settle down, Lothíriel. Don't expect him, nor Amrothos, to suddenly forget about the ordeal of the past months".

"Of course, I'd never expect such thing. Éomer said we could travel to Dol Amroth this summer, in three months or so. It would be a good timing for Gilraen and maybe things will be a bit better by then and Amrothos will accept seeing me".

"I'll do my best to that regard", he reassured her.

"As you always do, brother".

Imrahil, Elhpir and the Amrothian party ended up spending almost a month in Edoras.

Two weeks after their arrival, the city awoke to the thrill of an event which hadn't been seen in Rohan in many, many decades. Swelled with visitors arrived from every corner of the Mark, Edoras shone in all its splendour as the Prince of Dol Amroth led his daughter through the Golden Hall and placed her hand into the King's one.

On the day he took his leave, father and daughter held each other for a long time, whispered words and mixed feelings hanging in the air, heavy memories of a recent past that could not be so quickly forgotten, nor forgiven looming over them. And yet, despite the distance and the difficulties, time helped healing, broken relations were mended, fathers and daughters, brothers and sisters found each other again.

Summer gave way to autumn, autumn surrendered to winter and a white blanket of snow covered the plains of Rohan. In the warmth of their bed, King and Queen rested in each other arms, the promise of a new life to soon grace their days sparkling something deep within their hearts.

But nothing in life ever go as planned and new hurdles and old enemies would soon resurface, threatening to destroy and burn to ash all what they had fought for, all what they had built together. Their spirit and their resilience would be put to test, the people of Rohan would witness a beloved line of Kings resting on the brick of destruction, their future looking once again dark and uncertain.

...but that, it's a story for another time.

The End

Author's notes: well that's it, folks. I had some unexpected free time and managed to finally close this story. I don't think Imrahil would have forgotten Lothíriel so easily, and that's why there was no sugar coated reunion. Imrahil's understanding towards Éomer may look strange, but given the time to think about it and with the knowledge that Lothíriel was alive and well, I believe Imrahil would understand Éomer. The poisoning had turned his life upside down and under such circumstances, his actions can be explained.

Since there were a few reviews about Lothíriel caring nothing for her family (silverswath I'm not necessarily talking about yours, which was a more articulate critic and one that helped me understanding what I could have done better), I will only say that we all do mistakes, especially when we are very young and especially at times when we are not able to think clearly. Was she careless at disappearing that way? You bet she was. Is she a careless person? Hell no. Does she regret it? Of course she does! Despite our best intentions, I believe it can happen that somewhen in our life, we might end up hurting the people we love. It's up to us to understand our mistakes, to prove we are better person that we acted, to apology to those who suffered because of our actions and hope they will be able to forgive us. Characters in this story have never been perfect or flawless (since the very first chapter, really) and Lothíriel is no exception.

I am not 100% sure about the sequel to this story: I have an idea which I think is quite good, but I will need time to refine it and shape it into something concrete. However, I really need a break from this specific Éomer-Lothiriel couple, because right now I feel a bit dried up. Which is why any one-shot I might be able to write in the coming weeks, won't focus on them. I'm starting to write another story about a very different Éomer-Lothiriel couple and taking place before the war, but I won't post it until I have at least a few chapters outlined. I have several trips planned in the next months (one of them being a three weeks on the road vacation in New Zealand: yay!), so time will be short. I hope I will manage to post something within a month or so and hopefully some of you will like it!

Lastly, I'd like to thank you for reading this story and leaving your reviews. It was my first attempt at writing a story, and doing it in a language that is not mine was quite the challenge. For such reasons, I expected the feedback to be rather scarce. Instead, I received many positive reviews, as well as some useful and constructive critics that I much welcomed. Plus, I linked with amazing readers around the world, which is great. So: grazie guys. At times, your words really made my day and that's the only reason I feel inspired to write more. You are awesome!

Guest: I hope I explained my point of view above. I'm sorry you didn't like this fanfic, but I guess that can happen. We all have different tastes and different expectations and my story clearly did not match yours. I will just say that Lothíriel did not easily forgive Éomer (otherwise she would have simply fallen back in his arms back at the Elven tower and wouldn't have waited 5 months to get back to him!). Yes, she did something terrible to her family, but it doesn't mean her family means nothing to her. I've had friends going through harsh times in their life and I've seen them turning self-destructive at times, simply destructive others. They were/are not careless people, but they were doing careless things. Not each of us have the strength and the wisdom to always see things for what they are, especially in our darkest moments and especially when we are young (that includes me). As per Éomer, yes: he told her awful things. Would I awake tomorrow and find myself paralyzed, what would I do? Would I find the strength to smile and move forward, or would I be consumed by anger and resentment? I don't know. Éomer did wrong, but I think his actions can be understood and, given time, forgiven.

AutumSparkle: not sure at which point of the story you are, but I'm glad you are liking it!