A/N: I wasn't really intending to do another E/L story, but I got to thinking that with 15 versions already (plus everyone else's stories), what new story ideas were left that hadn't been done, and then this came to me.

Also, now that I have finally given Imrahil's wife a name (Sirrin), I will likely use that name for her in any stories where she appears, even if her character is different each time (similar to my always calling Elphir's wife Alcathir). The use of the same name does not indicate a connection between the stories. I will indicate if something is a sequel or related to an existing story.

Shattered

Chapter 1

(Cormallen, late April, 3019 III)

Hearty laughter rent the night. "Oh, Eomer, I can scarce wait to have you meet the rest of my family. I am sure they will love you as I do. Already you are like a son to me!" Imrahil warmly told the king of Rohan.

"I am honored!" Eomer responded, humbled by the man's approbation.

"You know, my friend, now you are king, you will need to think about beginning a family of your own. I doubt a queen and a few heirs would go amiss in Rohan's eyes!" Imrahil urged.

Eomer chuckled. His friends had already been goading him in the direction of matrimony. It seemed marriage and children were on everyone's mind in the wake of their victory, and he could not truly deny that the thought had occurred to him how pleasing a family would be. He would gladly see the hall of Meduseld filled with laughing children, driving back the long shadows of the past.

With a glint in his eyes, he teased, "How may I even consider marriage when you have told me that your only daughter is already betrothed? Shall I seek solace in some lesser maiden?"

Imrahil laughed appreciatively. "Had I known I would meet you, I might have required Lothiriel to wait instead of approving her betrothal!" He sighed, and shook his head before shrugging. "We live in a new world, one that none of us thought would ever exist. There are many worthy ladies who will eagerly seek your suit, Eomer. Choose wisely. The right woman beside a man, especially a ruler, makes all the difference. Do not let your advisers press you to marry someone in whose company you cannot be perfectly at ease. Many noble marriages in Gondor are made for alliance rather than love. I know it is so, but I was fortunate enough to achieve both, and I believe I would not have done half so well with anyone else united to me. She has given me four beautiful children and a lifetime of joy."

Eomer nodded silently at the counsel, taking another swallow of ale. Wise counsel, indeed, he was sure, but privately he knew that a wife would likely have to wait a while. First the Mark needed his full attention in being rebuilt.

xx

Over the next few days, Eomer gave little further thought to his conversation with Imrahil their last night at Cormallen. The company traveled to Osgiliath and then on to Minas Tirith, where Aragorn was crowned king on May first. Consequently, he had not given much thought to Imrahil's daughter, Lothiriel, or that they would soon meet. Had he done so, he supposed he would have expected her to be tall and dark like the other members of her family.

The reality, when they came face to face, was far more than that. All of the men in the Prince's family would be considered handsome, and Eomer had noted appreciative looks cast at them from the ladies. Not only did the family have Numenorean blood, but it was also rumored that they had Elvish ancestry. In Lothiriel of Dol Amroth there was every reason to believe the rumors. Eomer had come to admire the dark looks of Gondorian women, but he thought Imrahil's youngest child might well be the handsomest woman he had ever seen. He noted that he was not the only man, upon first meeting her, who took a moment to recover his composure in the presence of such beauty.

More than her looks, though, he found her a pleasant and charming woman, as he would have expected. While yet young, at only twenty years, she carried herself with grace and dignity that reflected well upon her father and his noble house. Eomer was not at all surprised to note her parents beaming proudly as they watched their daughter move about in royal society.

During the sennight Eomer tarried at Minas Tirith before returning home, he came to realize that he could very much regret that he had not met the lady sooner, before she was betrothed. There had been little time in his life for the pursuit of ladies and romance; now that he had time, even needed to make time, the one that most caught his eye was unavailable to him.

Despite that, Eomer formed as warm a friendship with the lady as he had with the others in her family. With the defeat of Sauron, Imrahil's wife and daughter, heir and his family and Lothiriel's betrothed had all journeyed to Minas Tirith for the celebrations and the coronation of their new king.

Imrahil's wife, Sirrin, was a gracious woman, tall and regal, with little gray dusting her hair despite her many years. Apparently, in her eyes, friends of her husband's were friends of hers, and she welcomed Eomer cordially into their home. With the affection that had developed between Eomer's sister and Imrahil's nephew adding an extra tie uniting their families, the king found himself a frequent guest there.

Elphir and his family were equally appealing, and the toddler heir was an active boy that kept amused smiles on many faces as they surveyed his antics.

The last member of the party, Lord Gaerost of Edhellond, was a bit of a mystery, not so easily assessed as the others. Well-spoken and tactful, Eomer watched him socialize with practiced ease. Amrothos had told him that the man held shipping interests along the coast at the various ports, and was quite wealthy. His fleet of ships had been employed in protecting the coastline, and thus he had remained in the south during the war. He and Elphir had long been acquainted, and it was through that connection that he had met and offered suit to Lothiriel.

Perhaps it was just Eomer's predisposition to dislike the man, but he found something pompous and pretentious about him. Indeed he was a handsome man, but bordered on being 'pretty', and seemed to pay an inordinate amount of attention to his appearance. Eomer had never seen any male preen so much as this man, but at the same time, in comparison, the king felt almost unkempt and rough-hewn. It was unlikely Eomer's manners would ever be that refined or particular.

Though Eomer met Imrahil's family during the course of the day when they first arrived, he spent the majority of his time with Eowyn and had little interaction with them. Not until the feast that night, did he have an opportunity to speak with them more and get a better sense of them than what casual observation allowed.

The first thing to catch his eye was that Lothiriel was now moving with the aid of a cane. As she had been perfectly healthy when they met earlier, he could only presume something had happened in the interim. His eyes narrowed with consternation at how little attention her betrothed seemed to be displaying toward her, particularly given her ailment, but as Lothiriel did not appear bothered by it, he supposed it was none of his business.

Only when supper was ended and the dancing began was Eomer able to work his way over in closer proximity. He first encountered Imrahil and his wife, on their way to the dance floor. It was evident from their expressions that they had missed one another's company these past few months. Eomer noted how their hands brushed against the other person's as they walked, and he did not think it was unintentional. If Gondorian society would not have frowned upon it, he very much suspected they would be holding hands.

It pricked something deep inside him to realize that. His parents had been the same way, and he had always hoped he could find such in a wife. Though he had had some reservations earlier, when Eowyn explained her reason for tarrying in the city rather than joining him at Cormallen as he had requested, once he had met the Steward and talked with him, he began to believe that the couple was sincere in their affections. He had been watching Eowyn carefully whenever Aragorn was near, but there was no evidence of her previous admiration for him that had gone so amiss. She rejoiced in their victory, and clearly still thought very well of Gondor's new king, but for the most part her eyes were only for Faramir. Eomer had to stifle a grin at how easily he himself was forgotten when the man came into Eowyn's vicinity. Only because her eyes filled with joy as she gazed upon Faramir did Eomer keep silent. Later he would tease her, but for now it pleased him too greatly to see her happy at last.

Once Imrahil was past, Eomer snared a goblet of wine and continued on his course toward Lady Lothiriel. She had seated herself at a table along the perimeter, since it was evident she was unable to participate in the dancing. Her brothers had joined her briefly, but soon claimed dance partners and were presently also on the floor. Lord Gaerost had seen her seated, but then wandered off to socialize. He was making a circuit of the room, visiting cordially with the most prominent nobles in the place, but clearly working his way toward his new king to make better acquaintance.

What man in his right mind would leave his betrothed sitting alone at such a gathering? Likely it was not Eomer's place to take offense, or to make himself available in Gaerost's absence, but he did not care. Lothiriel of Dol Amroth intrigued him, and for the moment he did not wish to do the right thing and steer clear of another man's betrothed.

"Lady Lothiriel," he announced, as he joined her, offering a crisp bow. "What has happened? You are injured or ailing?"

She smiled up at him, somehow making him feel as though he were the only person in the room. "Clumsiness on my part, I fear. I stepped down wrong and turned my ankle. I really should be at home with it up on a cushion, but Lord Gaerost was eager to have me attend tonight, and I confess I did not wish to miss the celebrations."

His jaw tightened at the news that Gaerost had pressed her to come despite her injury. He knew how painful sprained ankles could be. Not having it elevated would increase the swelling and add to her discomfort. Glancing around, he called to a passing servant. "Fetch me a soft pillow and a cloth filled with ice. Also bring a lap blanket," he instructed.

The man bowed and scurried away, as Lothiriel eyed him questioningly, but Eomer had noticed she had no wine and moved to secure some for her. He set it by her just as the servant returned with the items he had requested. Drawing a chair closer, he gestured to it. "It will ease your distress and aid healing if you do not leave your leg down while you sit here." He positioned the chair for her until she indicated she was comfortable, spreading the blanket over her lap to provide whatever modesty she deemed necessary. The bag of ice he wrapped around the affected ankle, then covered it with part of the blanket.

"I thank you," she acknowledged with a smile. "That does feel better. It was beginning to ache somewhat. The healers gave me something for pain, but I believe it is beginning to wear off."

"The wine will help that, until you are home and able to take more," he acknowledged.

"You are very kind, sir," she told him, and he frowned.

"Please, call me Eomer, at least when we are alone. I do not care to have my friends be so formal with me," he requested.

Her eyes glinted with amusement. "Yes, Father says you will make for a very informal king! But he assures me that he finds that refreshing, and hopes you are able to maintain it as long as possible."

Eomer chuckled in response. "I never thought to be king at all, so I am sure I will make many 'mistakes' in how I go about it. First and foremost, I am a soldier. That is what I know and do best."

"Perhaps but, as such, you are a leader of men. Being a king is not so different. Your tongue becomes your sword, and tactics are still required. Though they do not like to think of themselves thus, advisers will prove a unique sort of 'enemy', but once you have studied their ways of behaving, you will learn to deal effectively with them."

He was startled by her insight, and particularly that she could couch it in military terms that were so familiar to him. "I had not thought of it in that way, but I think you may be right. The few times I witnessed my uncle with his advisers, he manipulated them brilliantly. I had not made an association between that and contending with enemies."

"Too many advisers have a limited focus, Eomer. They fix upon a certain favorite topic to the exclusion of other worthy topics. As king, you will need to consider the whole, despite their sharded views. All the small pieces must fit together for the good of the whole," she explained.

"And how is it that you know so much of this?" he asked, surprised by her counsel.

She laughed. "Father insisted that I stay as abreast of such things as my brothers. He felt that all of the royal house should be prepared in an instant to rule, if such became necessary. And there have been times when it seemed all too possible." Her tone had sobered, but then she brightened as she added, "Until now. At this moment, I cannot think our lands will not finally find peace and prosperity."

Eomer's own countenance became more solemn and he looked down at his hands. "Moreso for Gondor than the Mark. We have a way to go yet. And there will be much rebuilding required. Saruman meant to utterly destroy us."

"No," she told him softly. "Gondor's success is Rohan's success. I am sure neither Father nor King Elessar will allow your people to suffer if they are able to ease it. Rohan rode to our aid, and now it is our turn to return the favor. Instead of armies and weapons, we will bring food and clothing. Gondor will not rest until all enjoy our victory. And, should either Gondorian ruler forget their obligation, they will have to contend with me! I can be very tenacious!"

He laughed then. This woman was remarkable, and he felt all the more attracted to her. He reined in that thought. No, it was not appropriate; she would never be his and allowing himself to think along those lines was a mistake. He would go home and forget about Imrahil's daughter; instead, he would find a wife from among his own people and raise a family. Then he would not be bothered if his visits to Gondor brought him face to face with another man's wife.

"Eomer, why are you not dancing? Lady Lothiriel has an excuse."

Aragorn had joined them and was smiling down at his friend. Eomer shrugged. "I have been keeping her company, and receiving wise counsel. You might want to consider taking on a new adviser, Aragorn. She would be most effective."

Aragorn chuckled. "I can imagine so, if Imrahil's bragging is to be believed! But then I should be obliged to take on her brothers as well, for the good Prince does not show favoritism with his pride in all his children!"

Lothiriel smiled up at the king and replied, "Do not mind Father! None of us would be willing to leave our beloved sea for the time it would take to sit in your councils. And you will soon be rid of me by marriage. So, you see, you will be able to choose your own counsel without undue encouragement in your choice!"

They all laughed together, but then Lothiriel urged, "Eomer, do please go and enjoy yourself. Do not feel you need to keep me company. I will enjoy watching, and there are many ladies in the room eager to partner with you on the dance floor."

Something in the way she said the last part told him she meant 'partner' in more than one sense. And it reminded him that it was also probably wise counsel. It would be unseemly for him to spend the entire evening in her company, regardless of how inclined he was to do so.

Rising, he offered her a bow. "As you are determined to get rid of me, I will go!" he teased.

"Not get rid of you!" she protested. "I am merely determined that you enjoy the festivities. I expect you to dance and make merry, all the more fervently because you will be also doing it on my behalf since I cannot!"

"I shall see it done!" he vowed with a grin, turning to move reluctantly away.

As good as his word, he kept away from her the remainder of the evening, though his gaze strayed toward her numerous times. It was frustrating, to say the least, being so drawn to a woman who was unattainable. It made him even more eager to head back to the Mark. Perhaps distance would temper the feelings he was having, and enable him to forget about her.

xxxxx

The next evening, Imrahil's family hosted a supper to celebrate Faramir and Eowyn. Though the official betrothal would not take place until after Theoden's funeral, everyone seemed desirous of finding any excuse for spending time together reveling in their victory.

Lord Gaerost did not attend this party as he had made prior dinner arrangements elsewhere. Originally, Lady Lothiriel had been slated to go with him, but between the desire to be there for her cousin, and her difficulty in getting around on her sore ankle, she was able to beg off from the engagement. Eomer was not certain how he felt about that.

Still, he was good friends with most of the men in her family, and what was the harm of including the ladies in his circle. All he needed to do was make certain not to obviously favor Lothiriel in his attentions. It proved more difficult than he had imagined it would, but he thought he did an admirable job of it. At least he thought so until he caught Eowyn watching him with a speculative eyebrow raised.

After supper, Sirrin had planned various games for entertainment, and Eomer found himself partnered with Lothiriel for checkers. While both chess and checkers were popular in the Mark, he had never much cared for chess. Though the need for strategizing appealed to him, the game moved too slowly and he usually grew restless in short order. With its faster pace, Eomer had quickly become quite adept at checkers, making use of his skill at battle strategies to plan his moves. However, Lothiriel proved very much his equal, and he enjoyed the challenge. At home, he found it difficult to find a player who could keep him on his toes so well as she did.

"How is it that you are so good at this?" he asked as they set up the board for a new game, Lothiriel having just won the one they were playing.

She laughed. "When you have only brothers, you quickly learn that all games are competition and if you do not keep up you will be run over! I had to be good enough to hold my own against them. Elphir is the best, though he prefers chess, but I am a good match for the other two. Mother also, so usually it was the four of us playing checkers in the evening while Elphir and Father played chess."

He grinned in response. "You are right! Games in the Mark can become quite cutthroat. I think most there enjoy checkers far more than chess. It is too sedate to suit our temperaments!"

"I shall need to learn though," she admitted. "Lord Gaerost prefers chess, and rarely chooses to play checkers. I suppose I must get used to defeat on a regular basis."

The mention of her betrothed put a damper on his enthusiasm that the easy familiarity of their interaction had brought. Though they continued talking, telling of their lives, he found himself holding back, fearing he would overstep some boundary that should not be crossed. If she noticed his reticence, she did not comment on it.

Even as much as Eomer's head told him he should avoid close contact with the lady, it seemed he constantly was finding himself in her company. There were times when he could almost believe she was attracted to him, but then he reined in his thoughts. What did it matter if she was? She would not break her betrothal, and he would not attempt to steal another man's woman. Had they met sooner, before she accepted Gaerost, possibly they could have been together, but now that would never happen.

Eowyn continued to watch him, and the day before they left Minas Tirith to return home, she came to his room. Looking on as he packed his few meager belongings, she finally broached the subject on her mind. "Do I sense…something between you and Lothiriel, Brother? You seem eager to share her company."

Eomer paused only slightly in what he was doing, not turning to look at her. Finally, he told her firmly, "Lady Lothiriel is betrothed to Lord Gaerost. End of discussion, Eowyn."

She knew him too well to pursue the matter, though he was sure she could read between the lines. Without further comment, she moved forward and slipped her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his back. She held him in silence for several moments, and then stepped back. "I will see you at supper. This is my last day with Faramir and I intend to make the most of it," she told him.

He turned to smile encouragingly at her. "You do that. I am sorry you must return with me, and that he cannot join us, but there is nothing to be done for it. We must prepare things for Theoden's funeral, and arrange for your official betrothing."

"I know," she acknowledged, then tossed him a grin before departing.

Eomer stood staring at the closed door for several moments before resuming his packing. Whether Eowyn liked it or not, so far as he was concerned, the sooner he left Minas Tirith the better it would be.

xxx

Imrahil's family had turned out to bid the Rohirrim farewell, but Eomer was able to keep a tolerable distance from Lothiriel so that nothing would seem amiss in their interaction. He had been a little surprised that she had come at all, making the walk up two levels to where they were gathering outside the Citadel. Making sure to display no preference for her company over anyone else's, he and Eowyn were soon mounted and making their way slowly down through the city. He did not notice the curious sidelong glances Eowyn cast in his direction initially, before finally turning her attention elsewhere. She understood why he could not pursue Lothiriel, as she was certain he wished, but it troubled her that he so clearly cared for the woman.

It was good to be going home though. That so many wounded men were traveling in their midst slowed the trek somewhat, but still there was an excitement at returning to homeland and loved ones. Not until they reached the damaged walls of the Rammas Echor did Eomer allow himself a glance back at the White City. The past four months had been unbelievable – from the moment three men sprung up from the grass of Rohan, until he found himself facing the Black Gate, and down to seeing the crowning of Gondor's king after so very long without one.

Turning his face back to the west, Eomer fixed his gaze on the horizon and signaled the company onward. There would be time in the evenings to dwell upon all that had taken place this year, but for now the Mark beckoned and there was much work to be done.

TBC

Gaerost – "sea fortress"

Iorlin – "old song"