A/N; My first serious Lothíriel & Éomer story. Please review! Really.. That would rock my socks. Takes place sometime during their first year of marriage.

- Elegant Couture.

Disclaimer; Whateva, I do what I want.

The cold wind whipped the cloaks of Rohan's Queen, her dark hair flying dramatically behind her as she stood upon the balcony. In the distance, a thunderhead rolled in from the mountains, and by the low rumble that accompanied the dark clouds, she could tell it was going to be a rather formidable storm. Lothíriel slowly wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep warm as she held her vigil for the safe return of her husband.

It had been three weeks to the day that he had set out with a company of his men. The threat of Orcs had driven the Riddermark's King in to battle again, and every soul in the Golden Hall had known of the Queen's displeasure. She closed her eyes, envisioning their last day together.

"It shall not be long, you are simply over reacting." Éomer glared at her, his arms crossed over his chest. "I survived the War of the Ring.. Think you I shall not last a small scuffle with starving, leaderless, pathetic orcs?"

But Lothíriel would not turn to look at him. Her back was stiff as she rested her palms on the window sill, rain beating gently against the glass.

Éomer had been prepared for her anger, but not this unbending stubbornness. He had faced his sisters tough will, but Lothíriel was even worse. He quietly crossed the empty space between them and slid his arms around her waist. He could feel her give in slightly, her posture slipping just a bit. "You are a cold hearted man, Éomer King."

And then she turned, with tears in her eyes, and fled the room, leaving her wounded husband to stare at her retreating back.

It was several hours later that she had returned to their chambers, only to find them empty. It did not surprise her for many of Éomer's advisors had stopped her to relay the typical message; "His Majesty has gone to the tavern."

She knew this routine well. He would return smelling of ale within the next few hours, and by then Lothíriel would be fast asleep.

But this night, everything was different. Tears flowed unchecked, disappearing over the curve of her cheek and into the pillow. She curled up on her side of the bed, hoping that when her drunk husband returned, he would see how hurt she was that he would needlessly throw himself in harms way. Had he not had enough of blood shed? And what if he did not return at all? As she sniffled and choked down another sob, she missed the sound of the opening door and her husbands steps.

As soon as his arms were around her, she didn't have the energy to pull away. She pressed her face to his chest, tears melting in to the fabric as she sobbed harder.

"Lothíriel.." He ran his hand through her hair, desperate to soothe her heartbreaking cries.

She pulled back from him suddenly, though her hands were still grasped to his shirt. "You cannot leave me too.. You cannot!"

He ran his fingers over her cheeks, wiping away the tears that lingered. "Not even death could stop me from returning to you." He whispered as he pulled her back into his arms.

"Éomer.. You do not know.." His lips on hers stilled her words, and she closed her eyes. "Death is such a strong force, it will take you from me!"

"Tell me, what is it that troubles you so?" He held her close, and he could feel her press her face to his shoulder.

"At one time, I loved another.. Gethain, He was a Swan Knight of Dol Amroth, a second son of a well known noble family. He was my best friend since child hood.." She stopped and gently pulled back from his embrace, so that she could sit up. His face was calm, as he sat up as well, his hand reaching out to caress her hair.

"Go on.." He whispered.

A sad smile took to her lips. "We used to play on the beach.. He would put sand in my hair. I loved him, and he loved me. Our parents were pleased, but he was older than I and so my father wished for me to wait until I was older. Then the war came.. He joined Faramir at Osgiliath and.." She hesitated, her breath catching in her throat. Éomer closed his eyes, knowing what was to be next. Osgiliath had been doomed from the start. "Faramir knew of my affections, and so he tried to save Gethain but it was hopeless. His family.. I.." She covered her face, sobbing. "His family never even received a body for a proper funeral!"

"Do you still love him?" He whispered, gently rubbing her cheeks, his breaking for his wife.

"I.. I do not know. I do not love him the way I love you. He was my first love, but not my greatest." She let her shoulders slump, her body weary from her emotions.

He pulled her into his arms, supporting her.

"I lost Gethain, Boromir, and so many friends.. Now, in this time when we should have peace, if I lose you.."

"You shall not." He gently laid her down, his lips covering hers in a soul searing kiss.

He had left the next morning, and she had taken his role of King. She was surprised at how much he had to do everyday, and so she had been stuck in trade talks and meetings for the majority of his absence, but at night she felt it keenly. How she missed him.. She had received only a brief note since he had left, one telling her that everything was going 'quite well,' and that he would 'be home before she even began to miss him.'

And so, on her free time, her maids found her standing on the balcony, facing the west and hoping that she would see the army, safe and victorious.

"My Queen? Dinner is ready.. Will you not come in and eat? The King will surely have my head if he returns to find his wife malnourished and ill!" Erfanaiel, her personal maid, stood at the door of the balcony watching her mistress.

Just as she turned, she caught a flash of something. Rain had begun to lightly pour from the darkening skies, and she pressed herself to the railing for a closer view. She saw it again, the flash of armor, as riders became visible across the plains. Her fingers gripped the wet rail, her heart racing. "Erfanaiel, they are returning!"

Her maid was quickly at her side, and laughing happily as she saw the approaching host. Her husband had left with the king as well.

"Alert everyone that the King has returned, and that beds should be prepared for any injured. Be sure that there is plenty room in the hall for their feast, no doubt they are tired and hungry. Also, make sure that the healers are waiting.." Erfanaiel nodded and hurried away, while Lothíriel continued to watch the approach. A slight frown was set upon her features.. They were making such haste! "I do so hope nothing is terribly wrong.."

It took them but a few hours to arrive, and Lothíriel was eagerly waiting at the stairs of Meduseld. The rain had arrived with them, and it was near torrential but it bothered her very little. She watched eagerly as the front arrived, but she did not spot her husband. Éothain was leading them, and as he hurried demounted, he did not look at her.

"Éothain?" She cried as he turned around, and his voice overtook hers.

"Bring the King forward, hurry!"

Lothíriel nearly fell over as she hurried to them, her hands grabbing to Éothain's arm.

"What has happened? Where is Éomer?" She screamed as she watched the men part and a makeshift cart was brought forward. Lothíriel gazed in horror at her husbands pale face and the bright red blood that he was covered in. Éothain grabbed Éomer and hurried up the stairs to the halls of healing. The rest of the men respectfully bowed to the Queen as they took their horses to the stables, and Erfanaiel took her Queen's arm and began to drag the shocked women back to shelter from rain.

"I command you to let me in!" She screamed as Erfanaiel stood by her, trying to restrain her queen. Éomer had been immediately taken to a private room where the healers were seeing to him, and strict order had been given to not let anyone in. Not even the Queen.

"I cannot, my lady. I wish that I could.." The soldier looked terrified of the petite, beautiful woman. Erfanaiel gently began to nudge Lothíriel away from the door, trying to lead her back to her chambers. Lothíriel was hysterical, her sobs heard throughout the hall as she finally allowed herself to be lead.

An hour later, she found herself in bed taking broth. She had already begun to come down with a severe cold, a combination of the rain and her hysterical state.

Her maid sat her desk, quietly pinning a letter to Imrahil and Lothiriel's brothers, asking that they come to support her should the worst happen. She hesitated when she began Éowyn's letter.. Perhaps she should wait until more was heard. Turning to look at Lothíriel, Erfanaiel gave a short sigh of relief as she saw her mistress had finally taken to sleep. She knew the healers had mixed a heavy sedative in with her broth, so they would be able to work on Éomer without distractions.

She rose quickly when there was a knock on the door, and she slumped with exhaustion when she found it to be her husband, Éothain.

"I came to check on you both.." He whispered as he took her in his arms. "How is the queen?"

"Asleep.. The healers gave her a sedative. And Éomer?"

He shook his head grimly. "It does not look good.. We had just finished helping a village and we had already destroyed a large amount of the remaining orcs. But the ones left ambushed us, and they attacked Éomer as if he was the only soldier."

He kissed Erfanaiel's forehead, resting his face in her hair. "I do not know what I should do if I lost you.." She whispered.

He kissed her softly and gave her a small smile. "Keep watch over the Queen, I am going to go check on Éomer."

A/N; Well? Reviews will encourage me to continue this. It's gonna be short.. Maybe two or three chapters long. Let me know what you think!