I have returned with another fanfic for your reading pleasure. Have figured out that my inspiration for "serious", romantic, sweet stories last a lot longer than my inspiration for funny stories. And therefore I will be writing "serious", romantic, sweet stories.

As I have mentioned before, it has come to my attention that Éomer has been rather left out of the love stories, and that's definitely unfair because he definitely did fall in love, he wasn't alone and miserable till the last days of his life. And so I have taken it upon myself to write the love story for him. Ain't I nice?

Disclaimer: I do not, I repeat, do NOT, own anything LotR. If I did, I would be actually PUBLISHING all my stories and making tons of money instead of writing them for free on FanFiction.net.

Chapter 1 : Two Different People

Lothíriel frowned at the people bustling about, getting ready for the long journey to Rohan. Her father, Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, came up to her. "Are you ready, Lothíriel?" he asked.

"Why must we travel again? You just returned to Dol Amroth, Father."

"We are going to attend the wedding of Faramir, the Steward of Gondor and the Prince of Ithilien, and Éowyn, the White Lady of Rohan," he told her, a smile on his face.

"Why must I go, Father? Surely they did not invite me? I have done nothing for them to have even heard of me. Why don't you just leave me in Dol Amroth, Father, and attend the wedding yourself? I have no wish to go to Rohan."

A stable boy led Imrahil's great stallion to him, and he took the reins. As he mounted, he laughed and said, "Come, my daughter, Faramir is your cousin! Would you not be present at your cousin's happiest day?"

"I haven't seen him for so long. He must have changed a lot," Lothíriel muttered as she mounted her own horse, a stallion only slightly smaller than her father's. It was no secret that Lothíriel was a good rider, and that she could control almost any horse with a soothing word. Her father nodded, and rode on, followed by his soldiers. With a sigh, Lothíriel joined the other travellers.

By the second day, Lothíriel was wishing fervently that her father had never wanted her to accompany him to the wedding. She was turning twenty, and now she would have to spend her birthday attending the wedding of a cousin she had not met in years, and probably could not even remember her name, in a country she had never seen. What was the point of it all?

Isindil, her father's right-hand man, and also his most trusted friend, joined her in her simple meal of stew. Isindil had watched her grow up, and was in most ways like an uncle to her. Lothíriel smiled, glad for his company. "How are you enjoying your meal, Lothíriel?" Isindil asked, settling down next to her with his own bowl of stew.

"It's good, thank you. A most filling meal," she remarked, setting her bowl down. "Isindil, why does my father want so much for me to go to Rohan?"

Isindil shrugged. "I'm afraid I can't tell you why, I'm not exactly sure myself. But I'm sure your father has his reasons. Anyway, why don't you want to go to Rohan?"

"I don't know. I don't know anyone in Rohan. I'll feel like such a stranger. And… I didn't really plan on spending my birthday as a stranger in some foreign country. Anyway, I was doing just fine in Dol Amroth."

Isindil laughed, poking about the remnants of his stew. "That's just like you. Don't you ever like change, girl? Since you were a child, you always found something you were comfortable with, and wanted to stay that way forever. Perhaps that's why your father wants you to go to Rohan. You're too afraid of changes." He finished up his stew and stood. "Well, I have to go and get the tents ready for the night now."

Lothíriel nodded, watching as he walked away from her. Then she hugged her knees to her and sighed.

Lothíriel tossed and turned, but sleep was still far, far away. The canvas flaps of her tent rippled a little in the light breeze coming from outside, and she sat up, pulling a cloak over her shoulders. Perhaps a little night stroll would help her get some sleep. She groped about in the darkness for her boots, and put them on.

The air was crisp and fresh outside, and a cooling breeze hit her face the minute she pulled back the flaps of her tent. She smiled. It was almost like home. She walked among the tents, and noticed that a light still shone from within one not too far away. When she got closer, she realised that it was her father's tent.

She walked up to it, intending to go in and speak with him. Then she stopped. There were two people in that tent. She sneaked in a little closer, wanting to hear what they were saying.

"I think Lothíriel will really like Rohan, Isindil," her father was saying. "Éomer, the new King of Rohan, also mentioned that I should bring Lothíriel to Rohan, since I've spoken of her to him before."

"Éomer is a good man. A little young to be king, though," Isindil remarked.

"I don't think so. He has the strength, and he knows what his country needs. In fact, I have great respect for him."

"He's unmarried, is he?"

"Yes, he's unmarried. It would be the great fortune of a woman to be married to him. If Lothíriel was able to wed such a man I would be able to rest all my worries!"

Lothíriel's eyes widened, and she turned, hurrying back to her tent. So my father is forcing me to go to Rohan to marry the King!

Éomer watched with his future brother-in-law as the women decorated the hall for the wedding. "The Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien. That's quite a lot to say, isn't it?" he joked.

Faramir laughed. "Just call me Faramir, my Lord."

"And you just call me Éomer."

The two just grinned at each other, and then turned back to watch the women at work, nodding in approval whenever a woman looked over at them. "There's going to be plenty of people at the wedding, isn't there?" Faramir remarked.

"Yes, I would believe it to be so. Why? Are you getting nervous already?"

"No, not yet, thank goodness, but I was just thinking that there'll probably be so many people whom I don't know there, and I hardly have any family attending my wedding." Faramir sighed, shaking his head. "I always thought my brother would at least be at my wedding."

"Don't worry… your brother would be happy for you. Anyway, you have your uncle, and Imrahil's bringing his daughter, so you would have your cousin with you as well."

"Oh, Lothíriel? I have not seen my cousin for a long time, it would be lovely to see her again."

"Yes, that's why I mentioned that perhaps Lothíriel would like to come to Rohan for the wedding."

Faramir nodded, pleased. "Yes, that would be very nice. Sometimes I think children are far too left out of their father's lives."

To that, Éomer just had to agree.

Éomer lay awake that night, staring into the darkness. Patterns swirled before his eyes, and he blinked in an attempt to be rid of them.

He thought back on all that had happened, from the time he had met Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli. Since then, time had seemed to flash by in a blur, and it had been too hard to try to keep track. And so everything had gone by in a whirl, and now here he was, the King of Rohan.

It seemed a little surreal, being the king. Everyone knew that one day that moment would arrive, since Théodred's death, but no one had expected it to be so soon. Éomer definitely had not. He sighed into the darkness, wishing once more that his uncle had not fallen in the battle. Théoden had been a good king, and a very loving uncle. Éomer was not sure how he was to live up to whatever his uncle had done for Rohan, for the Rohirrim, but his last thought before falling asleep was that no matter what had happened, and what had changed, he was ready.

I actually had to replace this chapter because I went and forgot that Faramir and Lothíriel are cousins. Thanks to the two reviewers (Hope and Punky Cobain) who reminded me!