Acceptance.

Lothiriel had woken that morning, head aching, eyes bleary with sleep, her stomach a knot of anxiety. She had retired early the previous night, in low spirits as the day loomed ever nearer. Her thoughts on this had kept her awake most of the night. She had heard Eomer enter the room quietly, not wanting to disturb her rest. Heard the rustle of clothing as he disrobed, felt his hard body as he nestled close, inhaled his scent of hay, horse and leather as he gently entwined his arms and legs with hers and felt his warm breaths on her back as he soon fell into a deep sleep.

She knew this ceremony must be performed, but her heart told her otherwise. ‘In Dol Amroth’… she started thinking bitterly, but she was not in the land of her birth, she now dwelt in the land of the horse-lords; a land of a differing culture and traditions, a land where even as Queen, it was not in her power to speak of her objections.

She meandered about the large chambers she shared with her husband, muttering to her-self, when a sudden noise from the adjoining room drew her and she peeked through the open door. Within was her son, Elfwine. She smiled wearily and leant on the frame simply watching him and sudden tears began to fall from her eyes.She brushed them away, feeling angry and betrayed and wishing heartily that the day was over and her son was safe.

But Eomer was adamant, and he would his way regardless of what protestations she might bring to mind. Indeed it was their first altercation since being wed and on recalling the harsh words she spat at him that morning, she now felt shame. His eyes had darkened at those words, his lips had set, jaw clenched and he had simply turned and walked out of the chamber.

**

Eomer’s day was spent in council, but his thoughts were elsewhere as he went through the machinations of kingship. The noon bell rang and his councillors suggested a break to the halls for their repast but Eomer would have none of that, he wanted not a halt in proceedings and ordered food to be sent to the chambers. One reason for this was to prevent him from joining his wife in the halls, a deed for which he felt instant regret on conveying the order thus, but as king he could not back out, his pride ran too deep.

He sat alone and aloof from the others and ate but little. His councillors, on sensing the strange mood of their liege lord, spoke softly to each other and approached the king not.

Eomer mused on the situation before him and thought Lothiriel was behaving in a most un-queenly manner. It was not as if she knew not of the ceremony, it had been discussed much and was in important rite of passage for every crown prince since the days of Eorl.

‘Lothiriel was just being unreasonable,’ he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose and then stood abruptly, strode to the window and gazed out on the sight below. The banners and flags cracked in the breeze, the guards kept their vigil, ever protective of their king and his family. The citizens of Edoras, busy in their daily routine, bustled about, but seemed eager for the feasting and celebration on the morrow, when the prince would be presented.

He sighed again and sat down, sensing someone watching him, “Majesty…” his steward, Arlo, ventured.

“What next,” Eomer replied brusquely, and the endless process of reports and requests filled the afternoon until the king felt his temple begin to throb with the beginnings of an unwelcome headache.

**                              

Lothiriel sat with her ladies in the afternoon and the talk of course was on the morrow and its forthcoming events. She was strangely silent as she sewed, stitching diligently, not conversing but listening to the chatter around her. The more she heard, and the more she felt the excitement around her, the more her heart sank. That and not seeing her husband at the noon meal. She felt the sting of that quite keenly and realized it was not just work that had kept him from meeting her as he always did. Moreover a bitter- sweet missive sent from Eowyn that morn gave her more cause for heartache. Her sister-in –law could not attend as she herself was heavy with child and near her time. Eowyn wrote of her apologies and also wrote with relish of the ceremony and regretted her absence.

Lothiriel pondered deep upon her feelings upon this. It was not that she did not agree with the rites…they were important to the Rohirrim and future king...it was just...well… ‘Elfwine was just too young …’

“My Queen?” lady Githwyn spoke anxiously, Lothiriel had stopped sewing and sat as if in a trance while unwittingly huge tears ran down her face.

“My Queen, are you ill?”

“Would you like a healer?”

“Shall I send for the King?”

Her ladies fussed, most worried by this, for their queen was never so.

Lothiriel shook herself from her reverie, “Nay,” she gasped, with a shaky smile, “I but fret for the morrow, ‘tis strange to me, being not Rohirric born….I but worry for...” her voice trailed off and she stood, her ladies rising as one. “I will rest, ..please ..” she added, “I am not unwell, I am simply wearied.” She paused, her hand on the handle of the door, and looked back, “ I need not a healer…or my husband.” She spoke quietly her head low and she walked from the room leaving her ladies bewildered.

**

Eomer had left the council chambers, work done, and the next few days would see a welcome holiday for the Eotheod, to celebrate the union to come. He headed not straight to see his wife as was usual but to the stables, here he would find peace of mind and calm. Here he could forget, for a while, the stubbornness of his wife...He could not understand why she was being so. Her words had hurt him that morn, but because of his great love for her he had left before his anger had caused retaliation.

He knew the love she had for their son, a love that ran so deep she wouldst protect him from all.

Her words came back to mind sharp and clear...'cold hearted,' she had said, 'a barbarian with no realization for the safety of their son or the feelings of his wife.'

He rubbed his forehead and watched Firefoot munching contentedly in his stall. How could she say he was so? His entire heart was given to both wife and son, the love he bore them both ran deeper than the Anduin. Did she think he would put his son in any danger? He would rather cut off his own sword arm than cause his beloved child any hurt.

He walked into the stll and stretched out his hand to stroke Firefoots huge frame, but the horse turned away and all Eomer saw was his ample behind. And then he turned his head slightly to see how his king was taking this.

“I know friend,” Eomer muttered, about to leave the stable, knowing full well he must shy away no longer and return to his chamber to make peace with his wife, a mission he secretly had dreaded as they day wore on.

Firefoot spun round and nuzzled his master affectionately, as if to reassure him and give him courage, ere Eomer left the stable area to return to bathe and seek his queen.

**                                   

Lothiriel stood by her chamber window. She had had a merry two hours with her son and he was tired from this and now slept. Her mind was cast in the clouds, thoughts swept away when she was roused  by a sudden knock.

With a shaky breath she called, “Enter,” and was shocked to see her king and husband come through the door and close it behind him.

“Must you knock, my lord? This is your home..” she asked, softly.

“I knew not whether I was welcome, my lady,” Eomer replied, “Your words this morn seemed not to want me near your presence!”

“And I regret those words, and have regretted them every minute of this long and unhappy day..forgive me,” her voice shook and suddenly tears ran profusely down her face, the sight of which melted the heart of Eomer, and with two strides he had his wife in his arms and was kissing her and holding her close as if he never wanted them to part again.

“My, love” he whispered, between kisses down her throat, “I never wanted you to be unhappy in this.”

“Eomer..” she gasped, as she felt his hands begin to unfasten the laces on her dress and she gave herself up to the sensation of the moment.

TBC

Acceptance.

Chapter two.

Eomer lay his wife on the bed and with barely controlled passion covered her body with his and began to make love to her. He was driven with the need to comfort her and felt Lothiriel respond to him. But a part of his mind was still angry at her words to him that morn, and he found himself thrusting with more urgency than usual.

She lifted his face from her shoulder causing him to look into her eyes, his own almost black with his throes….but as happens often to any wedded couple with young children, their love-making was rudely interrupted by the cries of their son, Elfwine.

Lothiriel anxiously writhed under her husband, feeling him withdraw with a deep sigh as she grabbed her chemise which she hastily donned as she padded quickly away to see to the needs of her child.

She walked in on shaky legs, still breathing hard and fast as Elfwine screeched out his needs to his mother. Lothiriel picked him up to offer comfort and gradually her breathing returned to normal, although her face was still rather flushed. She lightly kissed her son’s tears away, and thought with regret that Elfwine had stopped their passion, but…but also feeling a little shamed that she was glad that he had done so.

Eomer lay on the bed, his thoughts scattered, trying to hide his displeasure on being disrupted so…’will this day bring me nothing but frustration?’

He turned slightly, wincing a little at the ache in his loins, the sensation almost painful since his release had been halted…and he had been so close to that. 

He ran his fingers through his hair and regretted ever starting any intimacy, but the sight of his wife weeping roused deep emotions within him. As her tears fell all he wanted to do was caress her, feel her soft body next to his and to love her. When would he ever learn to stop and think and not act with haste? ‘She responded to me,’ he thought glumly, ’but she always does.’ It was as if the act could get them closer, without the need for speech, but…even that had failed and there was still an unhappy tension within the room.

He could hear the low melodic voice of his wife as she soothed their son, whispering to him and sensed by the way her voice rose and lowered that she was pacing the floor whilst doing so.

His discomfort was slowly decreasing and he stood up to pull on his breeches. He rose from the bed and walked in their ante-room to get the glass of brandy he now so needed. When he turned round and walked back into their chamber, Lothriel was sitting on the huge bed, Elfwine cradled in her arms, one shoulder bared as she gave him suck. He smiled and listened to the clucking noises coming from his child.

Eomer crawled over and sat behind her to draw his wife into his embrace, pulling her gently down to nestle on his chest. Lothiriel sighed as he kissed her shoulder and rested his chin there looking down upon his son.

His son, Elfwine, only six months into this world, and yet in all innocence had been the cause of such dissent between his mother and father.

He reached down and with a gentle hand stroked his son’s downy head. Lothiriel looked up and watched him intently.

“I would never harm or have cause to harm him, beloved,” he whispered.

“I know,” she replied softly.

“This union… ‘tis important… for me and for all Rohan…” he tried to explain rather tentatively. “I know not why you feel so against this…our son is of age… In..in the days of my forefathers it was performed moments after birthing...”

Lothiriel gasped anew at this thought. To go through the pains of labour was bad enough, but to then have a new born snatched from your arms to fulfil some Rohirric tradition…”I knew not of that, my lord, why ‘tis…” she paused abruptly before her tongue could speak the next word that almost rolled from her lips.

“Barbaric..” Eomer suggested, stiffening slightly.

Lothiriel blushed, a little shamed at his reading her mind so easily. ”You throw my words back in my face, Eomer. I am truly sorry, ’twas only said in the heat of the moment..I meant it not…”Her words trailed off.

“Mmm, but not without feeling though, you do know how to wound me, wife,” Eomer added in a pained voice.

“My king..” she started anew, “ I want no more discord over this, I find myself in a unhappy position of wanting to please you and the people….”

Lothiriel lifted Elfwine from her breast as she spoke, and lay him over her shoulder as he gave forth a large burp, the sound of which brought laughter to both and relieved a little of the tension.

 “Our son is a true Rohirric born.” He laughed, and opened his arms to receive the sleepy form of his son, held him close and planted a soft kiss on his forehead.

Lothriel laughed along with him, watching her husband, watching the gentle way he held the babe. Was she being unreasonable?

When she had been first wed to the king, many tales and legends had been related on so many evenings in the halls. They seemed to inspire the Rohirrim, and she watched her husband closely as these were related to the company. He took such pride in his heritage, in the deeds of his sires, this was the man she loved and would love until death. Yes, the tale of the first- born prince had been told and she had loved the ritual on first hearing of it. But that was before she had been delivered of a babe herself, and now on becoming a mother her worries on this had grown tenfold.

“I, I..are you…did I hurt you…” Eomer suddenly asked with tenderness, a little shamed now he had had time to reflect upon his actions “Please, I wouldst know, I never to intended to, my beloved.”

Lothiriel reddened slightly at his words, but felt he needed an honest answer, as for the first time since their marriage, she had not enjoyed his love-making. “Not hurt..” she began with hesitation, and raised her head to look directly at him, “You were a little overpowering, and…” she broke off, biting her lip.

“And?”

“And I didst not like the man you were when we….’twas almost like I was being punished for my harsh words to you.” She finished with a sigh, and wished heartily she had borne a daughter and then all this would have never happened and they would be happy and content.

“Oh, my love…” Eomer started to say, when a loud knock at the door stopped him, “Who dares disturb the king,” he called, with annoyance.

Arlo his steward it was behind the door-frame. He nervously answered, “The guests are here, Majesty, they await both your presence and that of the queen.”

“We will attend,” snapped Eomer, “Will you ever give me peace?” He sighed deeply with mounting frustration. He loved his land, but now he wanting nothing more to remain within their chambers to talk and seek to make amends with his wife. But it was not to be. Duty called and the affairs of the Riddermark over shadowed any personal feelings that its liege lord would be suffering from. 

Many guests had arrived that day, and the feasting would be on a grand scale this eve even before the ceremony took place.

Eomer stood and gently handed his now sleeping son into the arms of his wife, “We must needs dress, my lady.” Lothiriel walked out of the chamber holding their son and she placed him in the cradle, in the small room adjacent, and then retired to her dressing room to attire herself. ‘Will this day never be over,’ She thought as she brushed her hair and tied the thick curls back with a silver band.

Eomer watched her go and moved to do the same, his thoughts not on the evening ahead. He wished heartily he were still third marshal, or just a simple rider, living in a small house with just his wife and child and at no-one’s beck and call.

He soon washed and dressed, choosing a dark burgundy tunic and black breeches. He stood waiting with controlled patience, his thoughts drifting back in time, of another woman, a woman weeping for the loss of her husband. His mother, how he had tried desperately to comfort her …Lothiriel’s tears had awoken that unhappy memory, one that had been locked away for many a year. He looked up with a start as he felt the light pressure of a hand on his arm. There before him stood his wife, his queen, looking lovely, dressed so regally. He leant down to kiss her lips briefly, ere he chased his dark thoughts away.

“Shall we, my king?” she asked, giving him a small smile, but her face was rather pale as she took his arm.

“Aye, wife,” he replied, frowning as he noticed her pallor, “Let’s to dine.”

They left the royal chambers together, to descend to the halls below. There they would entertain and be entertained, and both felt the frustration at having their conversation halted, albeit it was only temporary. But now they had a role to play, and play it they must, as many eyes would be watching them and Eomer did not want to give the gossip-mongerers any satisfaction.

The company rose as the king and queen entered, love and respect in every heart. With a great shout Marshal Erkenbrand propelled himself forward to greet his king. 

He loved Eomer as a son and admired the beauty of his young wife. “A great day to come, sire,” he boomed, “A great day. I ne’er thought to witness this, not after…well you know of what I speak. The Riddermark is safe and long may it continue, the dark days are gone, gone forever.” Horns greeted this salutation and many mugs of ale were downed in honour.

“My Queen,” Erkenbrand towered over her, he was smaller than her husband but had twice his girth, “You are a jewel among women,” he beamed paternally, feeling another strong arm tugging him away from the close proximity to his ruler’s wife.

Elfhelm laughed, “Come marshal, ere you offend our Queen.” Erkenbrand staggered away to the laughter of all as the king called for more drinks and the whole of Meduseld cheered the health of the queen and her son Prince Elfwine.

After the dining, many songs and stories were in the offing. Lothiriel leaned back in her husband’s arms and listened with the rest, but only with half an ear as her troubled heart was still giving her pain and distress.

TBC.

A/N Many thanks to Helena who offered to Beta this story.

Acceptance.

Chapter Three.

The night was long and raucous. Food and drink flowed. The morrow would see the acceptance, but this night the Rohirrim feasted, and feasted well.

Dancing was called for and many couples took to the floor, the queen found herself in great demand and both marshal’s vied with partnering her. Lothiriel’s love of dancing was well known and oft times she had found herself being held close by her husband  as they took to the floor. But this night Eomer appeared to prefer the partnership of a tankard of ale than the close company of his wife.

He wanted nothing more than to carry his wife into their bedchamber and make passionate love to her. Frustration grew within him, and he deeply resented the interruption of their earlier conversation.

  The queen watched her husband closely as she danced. Watched him as another tankard of ale was downed. Prayed that he would not become too inebriated.

Eomer prowled round the circumference of the halls watching his queen dance with Elfhelm. She seemed to be enjoying the evening, her cheeks were flushed with the dance and she laughed at something that the marshal was saying to her. He stopped to watch the pair, his heart still pained from his forceful ministrations earlier that evening. ‘Oh my beloved’, he mused, ‘what has occurred to cause our estrangement.’

The pressure of a hand on his shoulder caused him to raise his head sharply, and standing before him was Ermenred, one of his advisors. Indeed Ermenred had been a rider with Theoden in his youth, but now he oft spoke words of wisdom whenever they debated in the council chambers. Eomer had much respect for him, and his words were always listened to and heeded.

“Majesty,” he bowed, as Eomer turned fully to face him. ”More ale?” he inquired with a broad grin.

“Nay, I have imbibed enough this night,” Eomer replied, “I would keep a clear head for the morrow. Is all in readiness, by the by?”

 ”I have come from the gates, all seems to be in place.”

“Thank you,” whispered Eomer.

Ermenred cocked his head to one side and pensively eyed his king, “Majesty..forgive me if you feel ’tis not my place…but is all well? You seem not yourself this eve,” he inquired tactfully.

Had it been any other man Eomer would have roared in his face and stormed off at such an affront to his privacy, but the older man before him had been there when his uncle had been in the thrall of Saruman, had been there when the news reached him of the death of his beloved cousin Theodred, and had been the first to greet him after the war, on his return to Edoras when he was hailed as King.

Eomer hesitated, not wanting to betray any trust on revealing the state of his relationship with his queen, and replied, “I am fine..all is well.”

Ermenred huffed slightly and placed both hands on his king’s broad shoulders, “I have known you since a lad, my lord, you could not tell an untruth then and that foible is still apparent I deem. I see, I am right,” he finished with a snigger as Eomer tried to bluster his way out of the conversation.

Ermenred went on regardless, “I have watched both your majesties, and I fear I might not be the only one in these halls to doubt your amiability this night. Now do not look at me that way Eomer Eomundson...” he scolded as the king’s eyes widened at that statement. ‘Is everyone in Meduseld now gossiping on the state of my marriage?’

 Eomer remained silent as he tried to rein in his emotions, feeling out of control with the situation. He stood, still watching his wife as she danced. ‘Is my wife truly happy with this? Does she trust me? Does she…does she fear our child might suffer some harm when….?”

“Eomer,” he spoke his name with the familiarity of an elder, “ Your wife is fearful of the ceremony, I feel.”

“How did..?”

“Never mind how I know, I just do. I have eyes, my king and I use them. Maybe the reign of Grima has left me with much insight, more than I would have liked or wanted. Be that as it may, I deem her heart fears for the safety of the babe.It is understandable that hailing from Dol Amroth she would not be so...shall we say… at ease with our horses, maybe a little un-trustful. And she is a loving mother but would fight to protect her young, no matter what. Do you understand my words sire?”

“Aye, Ermenred, I do,” smiled Eomer, feeling relief that his concerns were recognised by another, a man who he trusted to give him advice.

“Now heed, my king, I see Aescwyn approaching your queen, the babe must be in need of nourishmen,.” Ermenred stated. Eomer watched as his wife’s trusted maid made her way through the dancing couples. She whispered to his wife who then promptly excused herself from her guests and without a backward glance walked quickly from the halls to tend to the needs of their hungry infant.

“Go to her, Eomer,” whispered Ermenred.

“But the guests?” protested the King.

 “Go, I shall make your excuses,” answered his loyal friend, “Now, son,” he added, and gently gave Eomer a slight push to send him from the festivities to seek to make amends with his wife.

                                         ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was quiet and cool as she walked the corridors to the royal chambers. Lothiriel smiled as she heard the loud indignant cries from her hungry son and quickened her steps. A calmness reached her soul as he latched onto her breast, almost biting her with his need, “Ouch..my little man .. you are in haste this eve..Yes,  I know you are most pleased with your two little teeth.” She whispered to the babe, her face a picture of happiness as she gladly nursed him.

It took Eomer longer that he had wanted or intended to leave the halls. Many unintentionally tried to impede his departure, some to congratulate him, others to drink a toast to himself and his heir.

Eventually he reached the large carved doors to the royal apartments. Quietly he opened the outer door and closed it again softly. He kicked off his boots and  discarded his warm, richly embroidered robes, instantly feeling cooler and lighter wearing just a thin cambric under- tunic.

The door to their bed-chamber was slightly open and he could hear soft sounds coming from his queen. He stood by the door as Lothiriel cradled her son and crooned softly to him, “Are we not a hungry little one,” she whispered, causing Eomer to smile tenderly, and his eyes to mist over with love. “Just like your Papa,” she went on, as she sat Elfwine on her lap and he obligingly burped, “Yes, just like your Papa!” she giggled.

Lothiriel kissed his blonde curls and said softly, “Do not worry for the morrow, my sweet, Mama will be there, and she will not let any harm you. Be not afraid, I will be with you and shall not let the Chieftain frighten you…you will be safe..he just wants to look at you...to see you…and if he should frighten you…. Mama will chase him away with a big stick…” she carried on now murmuring sweet nonsense.

Eomer listened intently to her words, ‘Be not afraid,’ he mused, ‘Is the babe is too young to feel so?… Mayhap this what my wife fears?…’ his thoughts drifted on and then he realised of a sudden her should let his wife know of his presence.

He opened the door with as much noise as would not startle her. Lothiriel looked up and her eyes widened at the surprise of seeing him there. She had thought by the way he had been drinking that he would have stayed the night through.

“My lord,” she began, “You leave our guests?”

“They are being well entertained by Marshal Erkenbrand, my Queen,” he replied with a small smile, “And Ermenred. ‘Twill be finishing anon, all will be seeking their rest to prepare…” he broke off as he saw his wife frown at the mention of that.

He strode to the window and gazed out briefly and then turned to face Lothiriel. She watched him intently, and smiled as Elfwine waved his chubby arms in the direction of his father.

“Methinks someone wants you,” Lothiriel laughed.

Eomer dropped to the floor and crawled over to his son making the little growling noises that the child loved to hear. Elfwine chuckled smiling gummily as his eyes followed his father. Then Elwine giggled as he felt himself being swung in the air by his father, causing more laughter from his parents.

Aescwyn walked into the room, stopping suddenly to curtsy as she knew not that the king was within.

 “Forgive me, sire,” she said.

“No matter,” Eomer mumbled.

“Aescwn, will you settle the prince, for me, “ asked the queen, “ When he is so, you may go to your own rest. I shall not need you ‘til the morn.”

“Yes, my Queen,” answered Aescwyn, rather wide eyed as her lady always did this, but it was not her place to inquire or ask questions. She carried Elfwine to his crib, covered him and left the chamber quietly. Eomer locked the door after her, so he could have some long over due privacy with his wife.

Lothiriel sat quietly, wondering what words would come forth, tensing slightly with anticipation. She raised her head sharply as Eomer spoke but so deep was she in her thoughts that she had to ask again, “Sorry, my king, what say you? I heard not what you spoke.”

Eomer sighed and repeated his question, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she replied simply.

He took her hands gently. ”Now I will ask again, do you trust me?”

Lothriel looked up into his dark eyes which seemed filled with so much pain and anguish she almost broke down. She had caused some of that hurt, she thought ruefully.

“I do trust you, my king…I.. I do not..”

“Do not what..” he pressed gently.

“The chieftain…our son is so small yet and so young…I fear…” Tears broke her words as her long built up emotions and fears came tumbling out. Eomer took her in his arms as she wept for her son, and wept for the hurt she had caused her husband with her forward tongue.

They remained so until Lothriels tear’s and shuddering had stopped. Eomer held her close and whispered soothing words to ease her anguish.

Then he picked her up and carried her to the bed-chamber where they lay down together, still entwined.

Lothiriel snuggled closer to her husband and lay her head on his chest, the better to look at him as they spoke. “I am not born of this land, yet I am queen over its people,” she explained, “ But if you trust so, then so will I.”

“Truly?”

“Truly, I have been foolish in this, and you have just cause to feel anger with me. I but speak with the heart of a mother, not a queen,” Lothiriel said with much emotion.

“Nay, my beloved, ‘tis I who have been so. Without you by my side, the ceremony would be pointless. You are mother to a king, the next king of the Riddermark, but you are also my beloved wife and I have neglected to see yours fears in this,” answered the king. “Apart from the day we wed and the birth of our son, tomorrow will be one of the proudest days of my life, and one which our people will long remember.”

Lothiriel looked at her husband and her fears diminished as he spoke. How could she have worried so? Eomer was a man of honour and his word was his bond, he would never tell her an untruth and would not cause or be the cause for any harm to either her or their son. She leaned over and kissed him lightly.

“I feel I have not trusted you enough, my beloved, but now I realise I was wrong, wrong about many things. Please forgive me, my words were harsh, I still feel shame of that. I do love you, my king, you are my life.”

Eomer raised himself on one elbow and leaned over her, gently caressing her shoulder, “Nay, my love, there is nothing to forgive, ‘tis forgotten. Tomorrow is before us, yesterday is gone.” He kissed her on the forehead and then softly round her hair- line. ”I love you so much, my life is naught without thee.”

“As I love you, my king,” Lothiriel replied in a husky voice. Eomer lowered his head and kissed her deeply, feeling her small hands round his shoulders as if to pull him closer and closer. He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead on hers whilst trying to stem the rush of passion that was rising. He wanted not to facilitate any love-making even though the throbbing in his loins called out for release.

He lay on his back and pulled his queen to snuggle next to him. Lothiriel sighed as she laid her head on his shoulder again.

“Twill be a long day for our son I fear,” Eomer stated.

“Aye I expect so, but he has given me his word to behave like the prince he is,” giggled Lothiriel, as Eomer leaned over her again, and looked deeply in her eyes.

 “I would hear you laugh again more often,” he chided gently,” It has been one of the things I have missed most, these past days.”

“What others have you missed, my king?” she purred up at him, eyes wide with innocence.

“I think you know,” he growled back at her.

She had thought he might kiss her but instead his hands lowered to her waist as he started to tickle her, causing her to beg for mercy through her tears of laughter.

TBC

A.N. MANY THANKS TO HELENA FOR BEING MY BETA READER. YOU ARE THE BEST.

Acceptance.

Chapter Four.

Lothiriel woke in the early hours, and to her amusement found that she was still fully clad, as was her husband. She wriggled out of her husband’s arms and disrobed, instantly feeling cooler in her light chemise. She sat at the side of the bed and looked fondly at Eomer. His hair shone even in the dark, the golden lights reflecting in the dimness, a sight of which always sent a surge of desire through her. Brought up in a land where dark hair was the norm she was enraptured by the golden hair of her husband.

 A giggle was quickly stifled as Eomer reached out his left arm for the slight figure of his wife, a figure that was now missing. In haste she rolled back under the coverlet and felt his strong arm wrap round her, and she revelled in the feelings of love and protection she drew from his touch, even while he was asleep.

In his sleep Eomer mumbled some indistinct words when he reached out as one blind to seek his loss, and then, as he felt that soft body again within his grasp, a small smile played upon his lips and he slipped back into a deep slumber.

Lothiriel watched him awhile reaching out a hand to brush the blonde mane from his forehead. ‘I am indeed the most blessed of women, to have this man as husband,’ she mused ere sleep overtook her again

                              ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Eomer woke before the dawn, his wife asleep in his arms. He remembered holding her close as they had whispered together the previous night, after he had released her from his insistent tickling. Lothiriel was clad in just her chemise, so had somehow taken her gown off during the night without disturbing him. He moved away from her, desiring to have closer bodily contact, and as gently as he could pulled his tunic over his head, peeled off his breeches and then rejoined Lothiriel under the coverlet, pulling her closer to him again. He could feel the curves of her body through the thin material as they spooned together. Carefully, so as not to wake her, he ran his fingers down her arm, and was surprised to feel her small hand reach up to clasp his own.

 “And so I was trying not to waken you,” he whispered softly, brushing his lips gently along the back of her neck, “And you were so all along.”

“Think you could not awaken me easily?” she smiled, writhing with the sensation, “And how do you think I awaken when your son demands his feeds at all hours? Write a note to me he does not.”  With the same playfulness that tinted her amused words, she wriggled her bottom against him, and felt Eomer respond almost instantly.

The sensual movements of his wife in front of him caused Eomer to growl with pleasure. His blood raced but he fought the sensation as best he could. He wanted nothing more than take his wife in his arms, smother her with kisses and love her, but he reined himself back.

Lothiriel smiled to herself. Since his ardent lovemaking of the previous day, she was happy about this display of restraint  and wriggled round to face him. And for a while they were content just to gaze at each other. “I love you,” she whispered.

 Eomer was on the point of replying in kind when she hushed him, holding her hand over his lips, and spoke again, “I know I have fears for this day…but I truly believe that…that with you by my side I could face anything.”

Eomer melted at the honest love he saw in his wife’s eyes. “My beloved…min cwen…” He leaned over her and their lips met in a light touch, a touch that quickly deepened as though a spark had fallen from the flames.

Lothiriel shivered with delight, instantly responding to the gentle touch. His hands roamed her body but she moaned with sudden frustration. Eomer frowned, a little puzzled as she pushed herself out of his grip, but soon a huge grin adorned his face as he watched his wife divest herself of her undergarment.

She lay back down on the bed with a coy smile and held out her open arms to him. Eomer marvelled at the simple action, which showed him all his wife’s love and trust.

Tenderly his hands roamed her breasts and slowly made their way down her body. He was tantalisingly slow, which caused Lothiriel to arch her back and moan his name.

Eomer smiled to himself as he reached his goal, hearing his wife cry out and feeling her open for his touch.

Lothiriel writhed with the sensation of feeling his hands gently stroking her. She threw her arms back and clutched the pillow, giving herself up more and more to the whirlwind of sensations that were rising deep within her body.

 There was not an inch of her that his lips did not touch or his hands caress.

She shook with pleasure as he finally entered her. He felt her body quiver and respond with every movement. Soon both were groaning with each gentle thrust, trembling with their intense pleasure as they moved together in unison.

“Eomer,” she gasped, grasping his buttocks to draw him in deeper.

That was all the encouragement her husband needed as he drove into her with more intensity, groaning her name on each thrust until finally she soared into oblivion as he took her to a higher level of bliss, crying out his name at her release.

Eomer held her close, spent and trembling by his own orgasm, and whispered Rohirric love words into her ear. Min faegernis. Min eorcanstan. Min deore.

Time seemed to stand still as they lay intertwined, a light sheen of sweat covering their bodies. United once again, body and soul.

After a while, Eomer raised his head with some effort. “ I fear we must move soon, we will be looked for,” he said sorrowfully.

Lothiriel giggled and drew his head back down again, to kiss him with passion. “But not yet…’tis at least an hour ere breakfast is served,” she replied, as Eomer chuckled, and found himself responding once again to her gentle touch.

“One hour? Is that all I am to have?” he whispered huskily.

“For this morn only, my lord,” Lothiriel teased back, nuzzling his chest with intent, “But we will have all night…”

“All night?” Eomer asked with raised eyebrows as he again dipped his head to kiss the hollow of her neck, and Lothiriel whimpered anew.

                       ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Eomer and Lothiriel rose from their bed with some reluctance. Elfwine was making himself heard from the next room, howling lustily for his breakfast. Lothiriel brought him back to their bed and leaned back comfortably on the headboard to nurse him. Eomer watched in fascination. He never tired of the spectacle of seeing his son take his nourishment. Silently he thanked Bema for having Lothiriel to wife and mother to his child.

After Elfwine had taken his fill, Lothiriel passed him to his father while she rose to wash and dress. Eomer sat for a while, dandling the babe on his knee, smiling at the small grunts and snuffles coming from his son. The sight of one of his son’s small feet in his huge hand caused more chuckling from the king. ‘Was I ever this small?’ he mused incredulously.

Elfwine tried to squirm away from his father’s tickling fingers so Eomer laid him down on the huge bed. This caused the babe to kick his legs with vigour and Eomer continued with his teasing.

“Husband,” Lothiriel scolded from the doorway. She had popped her head in as it was too quiet in the large room, and put her hands on her hips as she watched the play between father and son. “You will make our son ill with your foolery,” she went on.

Eomer was unrepentant, and continued. He lifted the tiny tunic up a little and rubbed his tickly beard on his son’s bare belly, and then started blowing raspberries thereupon, which caused Elfwine to giggle with mirth.

Lothiriel sat next to them on the bed and laughed at the antics of both the men in her life.

“So Mama thinks she is safe, does she, little one,” Eomer whispered to his son. “Methinks she needs to be taught a lesson, interrupting our play, do you agree?” he asked the babe. Elfwine started to blow bubbles.

“I take that as a yes,” Eomer went on, as Lothiriel frowned. Before she realised it Eomer had her on her back, trying to raise her skirts to do likewise. His wife shrieked with laughter, trying in vain to stop his determined hands, until eventually both fell into a tangled heap, totally out of breath.

As they lay both fondly watched their babe while he kicked his legs and tried to bite his toes. They wished heartily that they could remain so and never leave the protection of their room again. But duty called, and Lothiriel sighed reluctantly as she rose and picked her son up to change and dress him. “I suppose we must be to our day.” She spoke with a small sadness in her voice.

“Aye, Lothiriel,” replied Eomer, gently caressing her face, ”But twill be a good day, one that will be long remembered.”

The deep voice of her husband reassured her, that and the gleam of pride in his eyes as he mused upon his heritage. Any lingering doubt was swept away by the love and trust she bore him.

                         ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Eomer strode into the halls with his usual casual stride. He saw Ermenred looking at him with a paternal expression. The king realised that the huge smile he wore on his face had been noticed and commented on. At first he was a little embarrassed by this but then he thought, ’I may be a king…but I am just a man. A man who loves his wife and takes pleasure in showing her this.’

The king sat at one of the tables and was instantly served with a bowl of porridge. As he ate he noticed the bustle in the great hall. Many had come to see the ceremony. All the inns were full, and those who had not relatives living in the city were camped within its perimeter. He could sense that anticipation was high and that the people were intent on enjoying their holiday and the feasting to come. The event was a rare one. Theodred, the late son of their previous king being the last one to participate in such.

The kitchens of Meduseld had been busy throughout the night, preparing meals for all. Many of the Riddermark’s nobility were staying at the Golden Hall, and expected to be fed well.

Slowly lords, captains and servants were coming to the table to break their fast. The conversation was mostly on the day to come, but as always there was talk about other topics, trade, the prices of oxen, and of course the horses of the mark. Breeding, training and blood- lines. All learned of such things as soon as they were weaned. It was their way of life.

                           ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The sun was high ere the king, queen and prince met again. Eomer had been caught up with last minute discussions and preparations. His queen had had a busy time with her ladies, all of whom were in a state of tension chatting and gossiping to each other, and vying over the floral decorations in the halls. They had a light lunch together, Elfwine sitting upon his father’s knees giving his mother a chance to dine without the distraction of little hands being everywhere.

Eomer glanced up to see Arlo frantically giving orders and seeming to be full of himself with importance. As steward of Meduseld the responsibility fell on his shoulders and the king smiled inwardly as he watched the man.

Arlo was trying to attract the king’s attention, but Eomer would not meet his eyes. Instead the king looked to his councillor and Ermenred nodded to his king’s silent plea.

When Eomer had finished his meal both men descended upon him.

“Majesty, may I…” Arlo started.

“My king,” interrupted Ermenred, eyebrows raised, “may I suggest that yourself with her majesty and youngling, take the air and enjoy the afternoon. ‘Twill be a few hours yet and methinks a time away will see all of you better rested.”

“But….”blustered Arlo.

“Aye my friend, we will do just that,” smiled Eomer, giving the older man a squeeze of thanks upon his shoulder, “If my Queen also is in agreement with these arrangements?”

Lothiriel’s face lit up and she nodded her head readily.

The royal couple departed the halls, child in arms, lest others tried to impede their progress.

Ermenred smiled as his king left to spend a couple of hours alone with his young family and turned to Arlo, almost laughing out loud at the indignant expression on the face of the steward.

“Well, it seems it is just we two,” he smirked, “Come, what is to be done yet?”

                  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Eomer carried his son as they left the halls. Many eyes turned in amusement at seeing their warrior king gently holding his child aloft, as his beautiful wife walked by his side. Without any realisation of where they were heading, Eomer found his feet taking him to the royal stables first. All within bowed with courtesy as they entered, but Eomer brushed off any such etiquette.

Firefoot whickered as he caught the scent of his master. He had been washed and groomed that morn, his tack polished, oiled and ready for use. Eomer walked up to him and gave his old friend a hand full of carrots, which were greedily gobbled up. Elfwine, still held in the protective grip of his father, watched with wide eyes as the huge head of the horse loomed over him. Firefoot exhaled noisily in the face of the young prince, causing his hair to flutter, and Eomer stroked the great neck and walked round to check his steed. He lifted his son onto the back of his horse, keeping both arms protectively round the babe as he sat. Elfwine giggled and reached out with his chubby arms to pull the grey mane. And there they were, father and son, king and future king, at one with their heritage.

Lothiriel had been watching with baited breath. Yes, her son had been to the stables before, but had not been this close. She was much relieved that he was not afeared and her thoughts rested easier. She was right to trust her husband and wished she had done this from the start.

Elfwine started to yawn and to get a little fractious so they left the stables to walk to a small garden area that was behind Meduseld. The gardens had been laid down by Thengel for his Gondorian queen to enjoy and had thence been well used by all of the house of Eorl. In the shade of a tree they sat and Lothiriel lay her son between them upon her shawl as she herself leaned back into the arms of her husband and they enjoyed a couple of hours of well deserved peace.

Lothriel dressed with shaky hands. She wore a new gown of green, embroidered with a silver swan hidden within its typical Rohirric style. She had all her dresses made this way, and so always felt she still retained a touch of her birth land near her. Proudly she wore the silver circlet that all the queens of Rohan had worn before her. Her dark hair was tamed into a plethora of plaits, hanging down her back almost reaching her waist.

Elfwine was dressed as befitting a prince of the mark, in a tunic and leggings, almost a near replica of his sire’s, and was now wide- awake after a long afternoon nap. He gurgled merrily and tried to bite his tiny fists.

The queen walked out of her dressing chamber, babe in arms, and stopped at the sight of her husband. He always looked impressive to her eyes, but today, dressed in the colours of Rohan, green and white, emblazoned with the white horse, he could have been the glorious Eorl himself, leading his riders to the field of Celebrant. His hair was braided and on his forehead he wore the crown of Rohan, a circlet of gold adorned only with a single white diamond. Before her stood the king of the Riddermark, adored and admired by all.

Eomer turned round to see his wife standing before him and held his breath. “You look beautiful, all eyes will be on you this day, I deem.” He leaned in and gently kissed her, and then dropped a soft kiss on the head of his son. “Both of you,” he added.

A knock on their chamber door startled both. “Come, my Queen, ‘tis time,” he smiled at her with reassurance, and placed his hand over hers, as all three left to descend to the halls to begin the procession which would take them to the gates and the  summoning of  the Chieftain.

TBC.

Min cwen= my queen

Min faegernis=my beauty

Min deore=my beloved

Min eorcanstan=my jewel.

A.N. AGAIN, MANY THANKS TO HELENA FOR BETA READING THIS. I AM GRATEFUL FOR HER FEEDBACK AND PATIENCE WITH MY PUNCTUATION.

Acceptance.

Chapter Five.

The Golden Hall was full. Near all the noble born of Rohan were gathered in anticipation. Many eyes kept glancing to the far end of the halls, past the two thrones that sat side by side upon the dais. The larger one carved with the likeness of a stallion in full charge, the smaller one, commissioned by the king for his Dol Amrothian bride, carved with a pastoral scene showing horses grazing, foals being suckled and two swans swimming in the river behind.

When the King and Queen stepped out into the hall and all turned towards them. Elfhelm and Erkenbrand strode forward first as rank dictated, and made their reverences.

Eomer acknowledged the allegiance shown by his two most loyal warriors. Although both were older, they had accepted him as the king unconditionally, and would defend him and his family without hesitation. The king nodded his head to the throng of people that had been waiting patiently for his arrival as Aescwyn entered behind the royal couple holding his son in her arms. Eomer smiled as the babe was passed to his mother and Elfwine crowed with glee.

And so they began the procession, which would take them through Edoras to the gates. As they left the huge doors of Meduseld the Royal Guard stood in honour. It was their duty to flank the royal party as they walked down through the streets.

The captain of the guard was Eothain, one of Eomer’s oldest and closest friends. Of all the men of the Mark it was the captain that the king felt closest to and the memories they shared went deep.

Lothiriel was fond of her husband’s boyhood friend and his wife. Ealhwyn was one of her ladies. She had helped the queen, in the difficult early days of her marriage, when she had been struggling with the language and learning the customs. And now, once more, she and her husband would be at her side. The thought calmed Lothiriel’s fluttering nerves.

The sun was lowering in the sky as the procession departed the halls. It seemed to the royal couple that the entire population of Edoras had lined the route. Many were the shouts and cheers to the king. Flowers were handed to the queen and gifts were bestowed on the prince. Eomer was much overcome with this show of affection, love and loyalty from his people. Lothiriel reached over to grasp and squeeze his hand and gave her husband a long and tender look.

The gates of Edoras were opened as the party reached them. The Royal guard led the way, as was custom. There they would stand as protectors for their liege lord during the rites.

The white mountains towered in the distance, snow capped and awe inspiring. The sun dipped lower as Eomer stopped and watched the horizon in front of him.

Arlo emerged from the crowd bearing a salver with an ancient and much loved heirloom lying upon it. It was the great horn of Eorl himself. The people gasped to see such a treasure from their heritage. It was only used now upon this day, the day of recognition, and was usually kept in a secure place within the halls.

The steward walked round to stand in front of his king and bowed. He raised the tray high and Eomer held his breath as he reached out to gently touch the ancient item,  that was once held in the mighty hand of one of their well loved kings. He picked it up in his hands and held it with reverence.

The queen was much moved by the instant tears she saw that formed in the eyes of her husband while he held that beloved relic. ’How he loves this land’ she mused, ‘How he loves and is loved by all.’

Eomer walked forward a few steps and turned to face the population of Edoras. His people. Gathered from all corners of the Mark. Come to honour him this day.  To honour his heir. He held aloft the great horn of Eorl so that every eye beheld it, and every heart was glad of the sight.

Then he spoke in a clear voice, “Eorlingas, my people. Hear now the summons. Hear now the sound that drew our kinsmen from the north. Down to the field of Celebrant and so to the lands that are now our own. Our home. Our land. We are one with it and one with our destiny and our inheritance.”

No voice stirred and even the very wind held its breath as Eomer raised the mouthpiece to his lips and gave a mighty blow. Loud and clear did the dulcet tones ring forth and every heart stirred with the clarity that came from that ancient artefact.

The neighing of horses was dimly heard. The riders’ own mighty steeds had heard also and shook the very walls of their stables in an attempt to reply to the call.

The only horse present was Firefoot. He stamped his feet and shook his head, wanting nothing more than to carry his master away to battle and to fight for his land and freedom.

Three times did Eomer wind that horn and all were stirred by the music that came from within.

Then a woman of ancient years stepped forward. Old Beorhtaru was the matriarch of her family and the oldest woman in Rohan. She was 101 years old and her memory was still bright and clear. Beorhatu was supported on either side by her grandsons, her own much loved son long slain in battle. She bowed to her king and he in turn bowed back in respect of her years. In her arms she bore a gift from the city, a gift for the prince.

Eomer accepted the heavy and exquisitely woven blanket. It had been long upon the looms of the weavers and had only just been finished, ready to receive and give succour to the prince.

The Queen approached Beorhtaru, bent down and kissed her lined face. The old woman smiled and passed her hoary hand over the queen’s black locks and those of the babe. Cultures and age differences were between the two women, but the bond of motherhood called strong and true.

The good woman, with minimal assistance from her kin, spread the blanket onto the green and fertile grass of Rohan, and bent down to kiss the sod. Struggle she did to raise herself but the men before her, including the king, hesitated seeing the glint of pride in her eye. Old she may be but she would not seek aide.

Eomer bowed before her again and kissed her hand gallantly. ‘This woman, one of many,’ he mused, ‘Bear the lifeblood of the mark.’

The woman walked back into the throng and Eomer held out his arms to receive his son. Lothiriel gulped a little, as the time drew near, but the love and trust she felt for her husband filled her with joy.

She gently kissed Elfwine on the forehead, and passed him into the arms of his sire. Their eyes met for an instant, and Lothiriel felt calm descend upon her by the love she read within. The king walked forward to the coverlet and lay the child within its warmth and comfort. He retraced his steps and blew another longer and strident note upon the horn of Eorl.

The mass of people were silent, and it was as if time itself stood still. Eomer felt each and every beat of his heart, until he heard the distant drone that neared and grew louder with each hoof-beat.

He reached out and felt the small hand of his wife clutch his. Together they stood, waiting to receive the homage and acceptance of their son.

The thunder of hooves grew in abundance as the Mearas neared the gates. Though few they were now, still a small herd grazed deep within the grasslands of the Riddermark, keeping only to their own needs and meeting with their keepers whenever need arose. The summons sounded though none had ever heard its call, but blood called and the sound of Eorl and Felarof drew the herd.

“Eomer….” Lothiriel gasped as the sight of the mighty equine forms came closer to the city.

“Fear not, sweetling,” answered the king, “Today you will be witness to a sight rarely seen. Our son will be as safe as if he were in a crib of mithril. For these are the Mearas, kings of horses, and all too few now are left to roam this land.”

At the head of that mighty clan galloped Stormshadow, the chief of the Mearas and half-brother to Shadowfax the renowned.

Stormshadow it was who ruled supreme within their ranks and his blood- line ran from Felarof himself.

Suddenly the herd stopped as if by an unheard call and the air was full of snorts and puffs as the great beasts waited patiently.

Eomer stepped forward and the immense grey form of Stormshadow walked to meet his king.

A ripple of approval ran round the crowd as the Mearas stallion lowered his head. Eomer reached out a hand and patted the huge neck with its long white mane brushing over his shoulder. Two large liquid eyes met the king’s deep gaze and the bonding of old was recognized and realized.

Eomer turned to face the populace and spoke with a clear voice, “We welcome you, Great one.” He bowed in turn to the horse, “We give thanks to you and your kin for heeding the call. For your loyal friendship and fellowship over the years we acknowledge and give our undying love.”

Stormshadow reared on his hind legs and neighed as if in answer to his king.

“Greet now my heir, accept in him the future of my house. The blood of Eorl runs true in the veins of this babe, aye, and of Eofar from the house of mine own sire, Eomund of Eastfold. Give him that lies before you respect and honour and it will be returned to you and yours tenfold.”

The King then stepped to one side while the chief tossed his head and moved sideways to approach the prince.

Lothiriel felt her heart beat faster as the stallion walked with slow and sure steps to the ceremonial blanket which contained her life.

Elfwine had lain totally oblivious to all the proceedings, gurgling his usual happy sounds and biting his fists.

Stormshadow edged closer to the strange foal and looked long and hard at him. He lowered his head and sniffed deep of his scent. The bond of heritage lay before his giant hooves. This was the young of his master, and in him lay the future of Rohan. A future that contained both man and horse. As it had always been. As it would always be.

Lothiriel held back a cry as Stormshadow moved forwards to step with a gentle movement over her son and turned round. He then bent forward on his knees and lowered his body to the ground and nestled by the side of his prince.

Eomer stood entranced, beaming with pride as he beheld the honour given to his son by the chief.

He walked forward to claim back his child but the stallion rushed to his feet and stood side on to bar the way of the approaching man.

At Eomer’s heels Firefoot tried to follow his master, desperate to protect him from this rival stallion.

Eomer smiled to himself and stopped instantly in his tracks. The rites had been fulfilled. He whispered a command to his loyal steed and Firefoot obeyed in an instant, although he tossed his mane in slight reproof.

Stormshadow was now bound to protect Eomer’s heir and stood in defiance of the king. The man-child that lay at his feet would now be held in esteem and honour by the herd and under their protection for life.

“I thank thee for the acceptance, great one,” Eomer called out to the horse, “Until you meet again, all care and love will be shown.”

He beckoned his wife forward as Stormshadow still barred the way between the king and his son.

Lothiriel walked forward with a shaky step as the chief tossed his head impatiently at the possible threat to his new charge. He danced a few steps, his hooves thudding on the grass with each movement. A sudden cry caused the huge beast to turn back to the prince. Elfwine had been happy ‘til now. Suddenly he felt alone and began to fret for the attention of his mother. He badly needed comfort.

The Queen moved forward under her own volition, instinct telling her that this immense stallion would not harm her or her son.

Stormshadow pranced a little more, sensing this woman’s bond with the youngling. He moved to one side allowing Lothiriel to stoop down to pick her child up to give him love and reassurance. She crooned to her babe, by the side of the Mearas and worried not by of the close presence of the chieftain. Her babe was safe and she felt anew the honour done him this day.’ If only I had had this trust in the beginning’, she mused, ‘then my misgivings would never have caused issue over this’.

And together stood they and watched  the child being comforted by his mother, Eomer and Stormshadow, each a ruler in his own right. Bonded for life. For as long as Rohan bore a king from the line of Eorl, so would the Mearas recognize such and together were the Riddermark and its future strong. For without one there would not be the other. They were one.

“From the line of my fore-fathers, I give thee thanks, great chieftain,” called out Eomer in a loud voice, “If ever need rises we will be as one, for as we live together so we will fight together to protect and defend this land of ours.” The king then bowed to the Mearas, and in return Stormshadow walked forward to allow the man to stroke his mighty flanks and caress him.

Then a neighing from the herd beckoned to the chief and with great reluctance he started back a few times and dashed forward again to check the little one’s safety. When he was satisfied that all would be well with the babe he left him in the protection of his parents, and galloped back to join the herd as they whinnied a welcome.

And so as the sun set behind the White Mountains the herd returned to their grazing meadows, hidden within the deeps of the mark. But ever would Stormshadow return to seek his prince, for they were now bonded together and one day an issue of his seed would carry the princeling warrior as he rode into battle to defend his kin.

And so would Elfwine, when he reached the age of maturity, see to the needs of the Mearas and protect them. And now that peace had settled upon the lands, the line of the kings’ horses would slowly increase in number and under the auspices of the crown, its blood line would never die.

                        OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“And so my queen,”whispered Eomer, as he held her close in his arms, “was not this day most splendid?” He covered her neck with small insistent kisses, as Lothiriel squirmed with delight.

“Indeed, my king,” she whimpered, “I feel today has seen my acceptance too…”

Eomer stopped his ministrations suddenly, and frowned a little, “What mean you by that,” he asked, looking into the flushed face of his wife.

Lothiriel answered with a shaky voice, as her body had reacted with intensity to her husband’s caresses now that all anxiety had dissipated.

“I mean, husband mine,” she continued as she reached her hands up to stroke Eomer’s chest, “Today, I feel my heart is forever here in Rohan. My old life is in the past, but now…I am complete and this day has shown me that. I will be forever part of the country with all its heritage and traditions…and with you,” she finished, smiling and reaching out to draw her husband down.

“Then this has been a good day,” murmured Eomer, as he caressed his wife anew, “And methinks the night will be also.” Lothiriel giggled at his reply. Then the only sounds were small moans and gasps of pleasure. No more words were needed.

The End.

A/N. MANY THANKS TO HELENA, FOR HER ASSISTANCE AND PATIENCE. YOU ROCK. EOKAT.