Disclaimer: Everything, except OCs, are owned by Tolkien.

Author’s Note: Keep in mind that some bits and pieces might be AU later on.

“Then the heart of Éowyn changed, or else she understood it… …’I will be a shieldmaiden no longer, nor vie with the great Riders, nor take joy only in the songs of slaying. I will be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren.” – The Return of the King


Prologue: A Blessing of Rain

F.A Year 6
Meduseld, Edoras

I was always stubborn. My mother said it was just me being wilful, but my father called it pride. It often would get me into trouble, but I was proud; proud of who I was, who my family was… and proud of my husband, and my people.

My people. There’s a certain ring in that phrase that can only make you feel triumphant.

My people are the Rohirrim; the horse-people, the people of the plains. Mounds of Simbelmynë honour our dead, but that can hardly do the justice of the many lost for the safety of Middle- Earth; especially, Rohan, my home.


My feet are planted firmly on the stones in front of the doors of Meduseld. I will never leave it unless I am called to Gondor. We are allies, and friends. No one can fight against the armies of Rohan and Gondor when we go to war together. We have proven that.

Éomer and I have proven that. A gust of wind blows against my face, making my dark hair blow in the wind. I tug my hood closer to my face.

“My Queen?” I turn. Gamling bows. After the War of the Ring, he had gladly taken the position as the Doorward of Éomer, and Captain of the King’s Guard. He tells me that it is about to rain.

Squinting, I observe the dark clouds forming above us. I smile, and nod, but I continue to stand in the entrance way. I can hear the children’s laughter, and a dog excitedly barking as the cool rain starts to fall. A few of the raindrops drop onto my cloak.

I welcome the rain, and even reach out to touch a few drops. My lips curve into a smile once again. We haven’t had rain in a very long time…


1. Lothíriel’s Misfortunes Begin
F.A Year 2

“Please, Lothíriel?” pleaded Faramir. I glared at him. He knew I was miserable, and he was using this to his advantage. Minas Tirith was nice, but not like Edoras, or Dol Amroth for that matter. It was closed in. And Faramir knew that, and he knew that I knew that he knew that. He also knew that I liked to travel, so he had this brilliant idea that I should travel with him and Éowyn to Ithilien. Gimli and Prince Legolas would also accompany us with several Elves from Eryn Lasgalen.

So what was stopping me?

Nothing, really. Just me, and my glum nature. It was my first time officially away from Éomer as his wife, and I was loathing it. I wouldn’t admit it out loud, but keeping to myself in the guesthouse with the occasional ride on my horse wasn’t helping my mood either. We’d been only married for roughly three years, so how exactly was I supposed to feel in this new situation?

Faramir and Éowyn wouldn’t know. Faramir was the Steward, and Aragorn and Éomer were the kings. I wondered if they even knew the word separation. It was just like the idea of assassinating the king of Gondor, or Rohan for that matter: Impossible.

I rolled my eyes.

Faramir grinned. He had won me over. Ugh, men.


Planning and actually getting to Ithilien are two different things all together. Packing for an unknown matter of time takes, well, time and energy… especially if you’re accompanying royalty-and are yourself, or the Steward. As it happened, it took the whole day and half of the next day for Faramir to take “care of things,” as he put it.

Éowyn herself was quite giddy about the whole thing. Ithilien had become their private getaway. Why they wanted a slew of Elves, nobles, and servants to come back with them, I didn’t understand. However, I did find out about the Elves. King Thranduil of Mirkwood, now Eryn Lasgalen, had sailed the year before.

Legolas, now ruler of the Elves, had decided with Faramir that they would now reside in Ithilien to heal it. Elves were slowly leaving their home, and making more contact with the outside world then ever before. Some found it fascinating, and yet others still didn’t trust the First Born, especially with those from Lórien.

I wasn’t sure how felt about the idea. I had only personally met Legolas a few times. The first was at King Elessar’s coronation, and another time had been at my own wedding, and some more were with Éomer. Our conversations were always pleasant, but brief. What struck me the most odd was his relationship with the dwarf, and my husband. Their relationship was so odd, especially since all of them (as I found out later) had not gotten on the best foot with each other when they had first met.

I sighed. Gods, how I missed Éomer!

By the time we managed to prepare our horses, and everyone had mounted onto their horses, it was an hour after the mid-day meal. Isildur snorted impatiently as we waited for our turn to find our place in the company going to Ithilien. We had to ride all the way from the sixth level since the horses were kept there.

Somehow I managed to get stuck between Legolas, who rode with Gimli (who had yet to master any horse), and Amrothos. With Rohirrim, Elves, Gondorians, plus the dwarf, we must have made quite a sight. Four different flags fluttered in the wind, and each made their way through the Great Gates. We were finally on our way to Ithilien.


Much to my discomfort, we rode in silence at the start of the journey. The only occasional sound came from the birds, and the sound of the horses’ hoofbeats. I could hear Éowyn’s laugh, and I envied her. She sounded so happy. Amrothos must have noticed my discomfort for soon started a conversation with Legolas and Gimli. Eventually they started talking about their homelands, and their families.

When we reached the Fields of Pelennor, our talk quietened in respect for the dead. To my surprise, I noticed a small flower glowering in clusters. They were a type of flower I had never seen before. I gave Legolas a questioning look.

“They are the Elanor flower from the fair forest of Lothlorien. I pray they will help heal this land,” he told me, and he rode off ahead of us with Gimli.

Well after the sun had set, we made camp. I fell asleep by a fire, listening to the voices of the Elves mingled with Gimli’s deep one.

If anyone ever asked me what I envied most of the First Born, I would tell them it would be their voice. Compared to theirs, mine was a harpy’s.

Due to the greatness of our company, it took nearly week to reach Emyn Arnen, which is the main city, if you will, of the central regions of Ithilien. During that time I grew accustomed to Gimli, and the Elves. I think I was even starting to get used to travelling again without Éomer. But the saying, “Nothing stays normal for long,” would define my life, as you will soon find out.

Emyn Arnen quickly reminded me of Edoras and Gondor put into one city, mostly due to the hills. Most of the houses were made of stone, and yet there was a hint of Rohirric society built within the city – especially when it came to the stables. Isildur seemed to feel quite at home as soon as we entered the Royal Stable.

Éowyn and Faramir had servants untack their horses, and somehow they managed to slip away without being noticed. Amrothos and Gimli soon left, and I was left alone in the stables with Isildur. I was starting to wonder why in Middle-Earth I had agreed to come.

Isildur snorted. “Yeah,” I muttered, patting his nose gently, “I’m such a miserable person, hey, boy?”

My horse shifted his feet, and pushed his nose against my shoulder. I sighed, and I found myself standing, and hugging his neck. I heard heavy footsteps coming forward, causing Isildur to snicker. There was another sound, too… almost as if a sword… I turned. Too late.

A pale, crazed man with black hair hurled himself leapt upon me, knife in hand.

We tumbled onto the ground with a thud. Isildur reared, his cries echoing in the stables. In that brief moment, I saw the knife sparkle in the light.

Aaaah! Somebody help me!


Lothíriel and Amrothos: Children of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. They had two older brothers. Lothíriel married Éomer in T.A 3021.
Isildur: A famous king in Gondorian history. I named Lothíriel’s horse after him
Ithilien: Was a region of Gondor, and Faramir dwelt there with his wife in the hills of Emyn Arnen.
Elanor: A flower from Lothlorien.

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