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Trust To Hope

Chapter 35: Chapter Thirty Four

by Novedhelion

****Author's Note****
I must say, I am SO tickled that so many of you have enjoyed this story! My dear Beta and I have thoroughly enjoyed writing it, but it would not have been nearly as much fun without all the emails and reviews from all of you! We kinda feel almost like Ani and Cam....having collaborated on this for over a year and now it's drawing to an end...or is it? Indeed, we have written MUCH more concerning our beloved Horsemaster and his princess, not to mention her adorable brother and his escapades with a certain blonde...

Ok, Ok...on with chapter 34. To all of you...Hannon le! Oh! And...stay tuned for the Epilogue...

Trust to Hope - Chapter Thirty-Four
Author: Novedhelion
Type: FP Het
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Pairing: Éomer/Lothíriel aka Anhuil; Cam/Amrothos
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: Sap, sap, and more sap. Get a box of Kleenex if you are prone to outbursts of emotion.
Beta: Riyallyn (dear, patient Riyallyn...she so needs a vacation...)
Disclaimer: Not responsible for water damage to any part of your computer. And NO, this is NOT the end....

NO release to the public domain given or implied!


Chapter Thirty-Four

Most of the important things in the world have been accomplished by people who have kept on trying when there seemed to be no hope at all.

Dale Carnegie

Palace of the Prince
Dol Amroth
8 Nínui, 3020 T.A.

“You wanted to see us, Ada?” Anhuil asked as she poked her head through the door of her father’s study.

Imrahil grinned broadly. “Yes, yes. Come in, Lothíriel. Is Éomer with you?” the prince asked, then chuckled as he realized what a ridiculous question that was. Éomer had hardly left her side during his entire stay in Dol Amroth.

“Yes, Ada. He is here,” she said, opening the door and crossing the floor, the king behind her.

Her father stood from his desk and embraced her, and clasped his hand around Éomer’s wrist. “I have some news for you both,” he informed them, leaning against his desk. “It should put your mind at ease.”

Exchanging glances with the king, the princess reached for his hand, entwining her fingers with his. “What is it, Ada?”

“This morning my men found the remnants of Fenwick’s garments on the beach.”

“Remnants?” Éomer asked.

Imrahil sighed. “There is no gentle way to put this,” he admitted. Anhuil’s grip on Éomer’s hand tightened. “They found part of the clothing he was wearing the night...well, that night.” He took a deep breath and continued. “Apparently even if he survived the fall, he did not survive long.”

The princess closed her eyes, leaning into Éomer, who put an arm around her shoulders. As abhorrent as the thought was, she still could not help but breathe a sigh of relief at the assurance.

“He is dead, then,” Éomer commented, his fingers tightening on her shoulder.

Imrahil nodded. “There was not much left of the clothing, just the ripped remains of the blue tunic he wore, and one of his boots. There were several of these embedded in it.” He held out his hand, dropping a small, triangular shape into his daughter’s palm.

“A shark’s tooth,” she observed, touching it lightly with her fingertip as Éomer looked at it over her shoulder. The point was sharp, the edges serrated like a knife. With a shiver, she laid it on her father’s desk, silently hoping the fall had killed Fenwick.

“I wanted you to know,” her father said softly, looking up at Éomer. Anhuil nodded grimly. Her father smiled, changing the subject. “The wedding will proceed as planned as soon as Amrothos is up and about.”

“Thank you, Ada.” Anhuil hugged her father, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead.

Éomer nodded to the prince, who extended his hand. The king shook it graciously. “I am counting on you to take care of her, lad.”

“It will be my purpose in life to see her happy,” the king responded, his hand sliding around her waist.

The prince looked from one to the other with a satisfied nod. “Good, then. Now go...do whatever it is you young people do to entertain yourselves,” he said, shooing them out teasingly. “I have work to do if I am to marry you off.”

Palace of the Prince
Dol Amroth
10 Nínui, 3020 T.A.

Cam made her way down the hall, carrying a tray with a steaming pot of tea. Amrothos was recovering, but she still insisted on tending him herself. She opened the door and backed into the room. Turning around, she nearly dropped the tray at the sight before her. The prince had his back to her, carefully tugging a tunic over his head. Corded muscles covered the expanse of his tanned back, only marred by the white bandage wrapped around his middle.

Hearing her quick intake of breath, he turned around, a slow grin appearing on his face. He shook his head as she set the tray down. “We have servants who are paid to do that,” indicating the tray on the table.

“I am aware of this,” she agreed. “But they had more important things to do than tend a foolhardy prince. Speaking of which,” her eyes narrowed, “why are you out of bed? You are supposed to be resting.”

“Unlike you, I have rested enough.” The prince slowly crossed the room, his only indication of pain being a slight clenching of his jaw.

Stopping in front of her, he wrapped one hand around her waist, the other sliding behind her neck. He drew her close as she placed her hands on his chest, gently pushing him back. “Amrothos, you should not…”

His lips covered hers, silencing her protests. “Enough fussing over me,” he softly commanded against her mouth as he claimed her lips again.

Slowly drawing back, the prince gazed into her deep blue eyes, feeling that he could happily drown in them. The tears welling in them surprised him. “What is it?”

“You frightened me,” she whispered.

His grip tightened slightly on her waist. “I will admit to being a bit concerned myself. But as you can see, I am quite all right. It will take more than some scurvy sea dog to take out Amrothos, son of Imrahil, especially with the Lady Camwethrin at his side,” he teased, trying to lighten her mood. A rakish grin crossed his lips, “Now, I believe you gave me explicit instructions about something.”

“Did I?” Cam smiled in anticipation.

“I have tried to tell you this before, Camwethrin. But every time you have an excuse to stop me. This time you will not speak until I am through. Is that understood?” She nodded, smiling weakly. Brushing a stray tendril of moon silk hair back from her face, his fingertips traced the line of her jaw and tilted her face to his. “Cam...I-“


His lips came down on hers, gentle but demanding, his hands cupping her face firmly. When she was sufficiently breathless, he raised his head and smiled. “I told you to listen to what I have to say,” he chastised her gently.

Her chest heaving, Cam backed up slightly, but could not pull away. She opened her mouth to speak again, but before she could make another sound his lips once again captured hers firmly, his body backing her up against the wall and pinning her soundly in place against him. One hand slid behind her neck to hold her captive to his kisses as the other wrapped around her waist, pressing her against his chest. Cam gave up and melted against him, finally relinquishing both her physical and verbal protests.

The prince pulled back. “If I have to kiss you into oblivion to make you shut up, I will. Now listen to me.” His fingers gently stroked her cheek as his lips curved into a smile. “I have waited entirely too long to tell you how I feel about you and I almost did not get the chance.” She opened her mouth, but was silenced by his fingers on her lips and a warning look from him. “Now that I am on my own two feet, I am not going to waste another moment.” Amrothos’ eyes darkened with emotion, his gaze holding her as captive as if she were chained. “I love you, Camwethrin.”


“Discussion comes later,” he informed her, his mouth slowly descending to meet hers.



The sound of a slight cough jerked Cam’s attention. Pulling quickly away from the prince, she smiled at Ani and Éomer, pink creeping into her cheeks. The princess only smiled, one eyebrow raised, as Amrothos stepped forward, clasping Éomer’s hand in his. “Good to see you up and about, my friend,” the king said cheerfully.

“He should not be,” Cam interjected, casting her prince a sideways glance.

“I have laid around enough,” the prince argued. “I am fine. If I lie in this bed much longer I will be of no use to anyone. Besides,” he said, moving to embrace Anhuil, “I hear my baby sister will not get married until I am back on my feet. Far be it for me to delay the two of you any more than you have been!”

“And a lot of good it will do them if you pass out during the ceremony,” the blonde chided. “You should not be--“

At the helpless look Amrothos shot his sister, Anhuil caught Cam by the arm. “Cam, I need your help making a few decisions. Would you mind?”

“But Ani, Amrothos needs me to--“

“I am certain Éomer will make sure he does not overdo in the few minutes we will be gone. They can meet us downstairs for dinner.” She turned her gaze to the king, who nodded graciously, leaning to kiss her on the cheek. “Come on, then, Cam.” Her tone brooked no argument, and leading her friend by the elbow, she escorted her from the room.

Éomer grinned at the prince, watching the door shut silently after the two women. He shook his head. “Seems they are two of a kind when it comes to stubbornness,” he remarked.

“You have not seen the half of it, my friend.”

“Perhaps it is a good thing we divide and conquer,” Éomer teased.

Amrothos nodded, grinning. “Perhaps. But I have a feeling the connection those two have will somehow transcend whatever distance is between them.”

Chuckling, the king nodded his agreement. “Sit,” the prince said, motioning toward a chair. As Éomer complied, Amrothos eyed the tea tray, then decided against it, pulling a decanter out from a small cabinet along with two goblets. “Drink?” At the inclination of the king’s head, the prince uncorked the bottle and poured, handing one cup to Éomer.

“To victory and your continued recovery,” the king said, lifting his cup.

Amrothos smiled, lifting his as well. “And to the love of intractable women,” he added, before turning up his goblet. Éomer laughed, choking on his wine.

Catching his breath, Éomer chuckled. “I shall definitely drink to that,” he said, taking another draught. He swirled the cup, looking down into it.

“Something on your mind, friend?” the prince asked, lowering himself carefully into the chair across from the king.

“I did have a purpose in this visit, yes,” Éomer admitted, grinning. “I wanted to thank you. If not for you, I would not be here. I would not have even come to Dol Amroth.”

Amrothos looked puzzled. “How do you reckon that?”

Éomer’s mouth curved beneath his mustache. “It was you who sent the second messenger.”

Raising an eyebrow, the prince regarded the king quizzically over the rim of his goblet. “Me?” he asked innocently.

“Denying it will do you no good, my young prince.”

“How did you know?”

Éomer leaned back in his chair. “I asked Ani, and she said she had not sent him. She had assumed the messenger your father sent had reached me. Your father told me the courier he sent returned, telling him he had not been able to locate me. As I thought back to my meeting with the young man, I remembered him saying ‘the prince’ had given him specific instructions to place the invitation in my hands and no other. Knowing your father had not sent him, that left only Ani’s brothers.”

He smiled at Amrothos’ attempt to feign shock, sipping his wine casually. “I think there is precious little you would not do to see your sister happy, and you knew that news would bring me here. For that, I thank you.”

White teeth flashed as the young prince’s grin broke. “Guilty,” he admitted. “And you are most welcome, my friend.”

Polishing off the goblet, the young king set the cup down on the nearby table and faced his friend. “Now, as you are back on your feet, I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Anything I can do for you, I will, Éomer. If not for you and your men, Dol Amroth would most likely not be standing.”

“And if not for your father and his men, I would be dead,” Éomer reminded him. “So on that count we are level.” He smiled as he took another sip of his wine. “My favor is not such a big thing.”

“If it is within my power, I will do it, whatever it is,” Amrothos assured him.

Nodding, the king continued. “As you know, my father was killed when I was a lad. My cousin Théodred and my uncle were my closest male kin, and they have now also passed.” He took a deep breath, pausing momentarily. “Your father tells me my grandmother Morwen was from Belfalas, ere she moved to Lossarnach and married Thengel, my grandfather. I suppose that makes us distant kin.” He smiled, continuing. “Therefore, as the closest thing to a brother I have, I would ask you to stand with me when I marry your sister, if it is not too presumptuous of me.”

Amrothos sat silently, seeming to ponder the request, then beamed broadly. “I would be most honored,” he finally replied, extending his hand and clasping the king’s wrist, “my brother.”

Dol Amroth
23 Nínui, 3020 T.A.

Éomer stared at his plate.

The fish stew had been a remarkably pleasant surprise, chunks of tender white fish in a spicy, red sauce. He had found it tasty enough. And the large pieces of fried fish were not much different from the fried river trout his own cook prepared from time to time. However, the oddities that looked up at him from his plate now were somewhat disconcerting. His brows slanted into a slight frown.

“Ani,” he whispered, leaning over to her. “What in the name of Béma is this? It has eyes.” The king poked at the red creature dubiously.

The princess giggled behind her napkin. “It is a lobster,” she informed him.

“And this?” he asked softly, indicating the smaller shellfish on his plate. “It still has its tail.”

“Shrimp,” she answered, picking one up from her own plate by the tail and taking a bite. “You do not eat the tails, Éomer.” She set the tail aside. “These,” she informed him, selecting a mass of orange, claw-like legs from a platter, “are crab legs.” She broke off one with a claw still attached and laid it across his plate.

Trying to be gracious, Éomer picked up the claw and regarded it curiously, casting her a sideways glance.

The princess stifled a grin, trying to hide her amusement at his perplexity. After all, it wasn’t likely that one ate shellfish too often in Rohan. “You have to open it,” she explained patiently. Taking it from him and picking up another one from the platter, she pressed them together between the heels of her hands. The hard shells cracked loudly. Peeling away the carapace, she dug out the white meat inside with her fingers and dipped it into the dish of melted butter, offering a bite to him.

“It is quite good,” he said, sounding somewhat surprised.

Anhuil smiled. “The same with the lobster. Remove the shell first. It is delicious.” She showed him how to split the shell down the back to reveal the sweet meat.

Most everything she encouraged him to try he found quite enjoyable. He did, however, draw the line after Erchirion’s suggestion that he try a raw oyster, and stuck to the broiled mackerel instead.

“It is all quite good,” he said quietly, “but I suppose I am simply accustomed to food that bears no resemblance to its living state.”

“What about roast boar?” the princess countered.

“You have me there,” he agreed with a chuckle. “Although I suppose we inlanders are spoiled. As delicious as all of this is, it certainly is far more work to eat,” he teased, downing the rest of his wine.

Dol Amroth
23 Nínui, 3020 T.A.

Éomer stood behind Anhuil, his arms around her waist. The princess giggled as he nuzzled her ear. “Éomer...what if Ada walks out here?”

The king feigned shock. “What would I do? He may force me to marry you if I am too forward,” he taunted, his lips finding the soft skin of her neck.

“You are so bad,” she chided.

“I think you will change your mind about that.” His hands on her waist, he turned her around to face him, smiling down at her.

“You are not behaving like a gentleman,” she teased.

Éomer froze, staring at her wordlessly.


“Do you realize what tomorrow is?” he asked her.

She pondered the question, not sure what answer he sought. “It is the twenty-fourth of Nínui,” she answered.

He nodded. “And do you remember the significance of that date?”

Anhuil thought back to the previous year, remembering the pages upon pages she had written in her journal during that time, and the many, many times she had re-read them since. A smile creased her lips. “I do,” she said softly. “It was a year ago tomorrow that you informed me in no uncertain terms that you were not a gentleman.”

Smiling broadly, he pulled her closer. “I still am not, you know,” he informed her.

“I still do not want you to be,” she replied, raising herself on her toes to touch her lips to his.


Moonlight shimmered on the black, pearly water as the two women strolled casually down the beach, passing a bottle back and forth. Soft footpads followed, and Anhuil leaned down to ruffle Elenion’s fur as he caught up to them.

“I wonder how Éomer feels about hounds at Meduseld?” the princess asked with a grin.

Cam lowered the dark bottle, regarding the wolf. “I have no idea, but after all you two have been through you cannot leave him behind.”

“I do not mean to,” Anhuil stated firmly. “We are a package deal, right Elenion?” she knelt and hugged him affectionately.

“I cannot see him contesting it,” Cam commented. “He would not want you to leave behind someone so important to you.”

Her comment hung in the air as Anhuil slowly faced her. “But I am,” she said softly. “What am I going to do without you, Camwethrin?”

“Oh, stop it, Ani.” Cam pushed the bottle toward her. “We agreed. No sad goodbyes. You will have Éomer, and you will be Queen of the Mark. You will not have time to miss us.” Her casual tone did little to hide the ache she felt.

The sudden realization that she was leaving...truly leaving her home, and everything she had ever known fell on her with leaden weight as she rose to her feet. The acute sense of loss, swept over her so suddenly she could not hold back the hot tears that streaked her cheeks. She hurriedly wiped them away.


The princess raised her gaze to the deep blue eyes of her friend, her best friend, and forced a smile. “You will be so busy with Amrothos that you will not notice I am gone,” she answered, the faint tremor in her voice belying her teasing tone.

Cam grinned, blinking back her own tears and taking the bottle back from the princess. “If you are not going to drink this, I am,” she quipped, taking another long draught.

Anhuil reached for the bottle. “I suppose I will be coming back soon for another seaside wedding.”

“You had better,” Cam warned. “I am certain to have many questions, and being the old married one, you will have to serve as my matron. So I suggest that you learn as much as you can in the next year.”

“I suppose that is a sacrifice I must make,” the princess answered, her tone dripping with sarcasm. They walked in companionable silence along the seashore, the hard sand crunching under the weight of their boots. The chilly offshore breeze lifted their heavy cloaks. Anhuil threw her hood back, inhaling deeply. “I will miss the smell of the sea,” she sighed.

“I will miss you,” Cam admitted, turning to face her.

“I thought we were not going to do this,” the princess chided.

“We are not,” the blonde stated matter-of-factly. “No tears. I just wanted you to know.” Flipping her hair over her shoulders, she chewed her bottom lip, then smiled.

“It is not like we will never see one another again.”

“I know,” Cam answered tersely.

Anhuil returned the smile. “I would ask you to come with me if I thought you would, but I cannot imagine you leaving Amrothos now. He would be devastated.”

“I do not think I could leave him now, Ani.”

“Precisely why I am not asking you to, Camwethrin. You belong here, with my brother.”

Exchanging amused glances, the two women turned back toward the palace. “Come on,” Cam urged her. “We are going to be late.” She increased the cadence of her stride, hurrying toward the pathway up to the gate.

“What is your hurry, Cam?” the princess called after her, walking briskly to keep pace with the blonde’s long steps.

“To see some friends. As your attendant, I feel it is my obligation to be sure you are properly prepared for your wedding night. Since I am in no position to offer you...marital advice...I have seen to it that you will have the necessary erudition the night before your wedding.”

“Oh? And who is to provide this...information?” she inquired, following Cam through the palace doors and up the stairs to her chambers. “Certainly you do not expect me to discuss this with one of my brothers!”

With a wide grin, Cam threw open the door, startling the two women who were seated by the hearth. “Ladies,” Camwethrin chimed, guiding the princess into the room, “she is all yours.” She ducked out, leaving the stunned princess staring at the Queen of Gondor and the Princess of Ithilien. Anhuil attempted a curtsey in greeting, but nearly tripped over her skirts. She felt the color rising in her cheeks.

Arwen’s melodic laughter at Anhuil’s shocked expression rang softly through the room as she approached the princess. “Camwethrin explained to us her dilemma,” she explained.

“So we offered to...assist in whatever way we could,” Éowyn added. “I hope you do not mind.”

“Sit,” Arwen encouraged her, handing her a goblet of wine. “We have much to discuss.”

The Palace Garden
Overlooking the Bay of Belfalas
24 Nínui, 3020 T.A.

Like a river flows surely to the sea
Darling so it goes
Some things are meant to be.
Take my hand
Take my whole life too
For I can't help falling in love with you.

Can’t Help Falling In Love With You
Elvis Presley

The day dawned beautiful and clear, the light offshore breeze gently caressing the faces of the guests as they sat and stood in the courtyard overlooking the ocean. Éomer stood between the magistrate and Amrothos. Glancing down, he tugged at the cuff of his tunic for the hundredth time. The young prince snickered at his fidgeting.

“When are they going to start?” the king muttered to Amrothos.

“Nervous, my friend?” Amrothos whispered the question discreetly.

Éomer raised an eyebrow at the smirking prince. “No. I just want to get through all this formality. We do not stand on all this ceremony in Rohan,” he muttered back.

“Heathen,” Amrothos joked. Éomer grinned widely at him.

Cam appeared first, walking toward them. Amrothos drew in a sharp breath at the sight of her. The dress of pale blue draped delicately over her lean frame, her pale hair swept back and braided. She carried only a small gathering of flowers, tied with ribbon in several colors. With a wink at Éomer she took her place on the other side of the magistrate, and smiled at Amrothos. The wolfish smile he gave her made her blush.

Imrahil held Anhuil’s hand on his arm. With the most bittersweet of smiles, he led his only daughter to her intended.

Éomer looked up. And could not look away.

She was wearing a silvery white gown, the light fabric hugging her waist, the skirt flowing slightly in the soft breeze. The wide neckline bared her shoulders; her coppery skin a stark contrast to the pale linen. Her hair was loose, the cascading curls falling over her shoulders. Cam had tucked a few small flowers into the side. The princess held her father’s arm with one hand and carried a small spray of white flowers in the other. She looked up at her father with a smile, then turned toward Éomer.

The king stood straighter, his smile widening as she approached. Everyone else seemed to disappear.

The princess’ grip on her father’s arm tightened as she looked up into the face of the King of Rohan. The dark green tunic he wore accentuated the gold of his hair, which spilled loosely over his broad shoulders. His dark eyes softened at the sight of her.

Leaning close to her, he whispered quietly. “I had hoped to render you speechless, but I thought that part would come later.” She laughed softly.

The magistrate’s clear voice carried across the crowd.

“We have come together here in celebration of the joining together of Lothíriel,” Imrahil cleared his throat, “daughter of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth” the prince grinned, “ and Éomer, son of Éomund, Lord of the Riddermark.” He shifted his gaze to Anhuil and Éomer.

“Know that before you go further, that since your lives have crossed, you have formed ties with each other. Know, too, that today you are not only declaring your desire to be handfasted together before your friends and family, but that you also declare this desire in the presence of the Valar. May the promises you make today and the ties that bind you here greatly strengthen your union. Do you seek willfully to enter into this ceremony?”

“We do.” They answered, their eyes still locked on each other.

“Who presents this woman to be married to this man?”

“I do,” Prince Imrahil responded proudly. Taking Éomer’s hand in his right and Anhuil’s in his left, he whispered to Éomer, “Are you certain you know what you are getting into?”

Éomer chuckled, grinning at Anhuil. “Absolutely.”

The prince placed her hand in Éomer’s, smiling broadly. Once more he leaned to whisper to the king. “Éomer, this is not a loan. Take care of her.”

Éomer laughed out loud. “You have my promise, sir.”

Imrahil patted him on the shoulder, stepping back.

The magistrate continued. “Lothíriel, I would ask you to take Éomer’s hands in yours, so that you may see the gift they are to you.” She took his hands, palms up, and looked down at them, listening to the words of the official.

“These are the hands of your husband, holding yours, as he promises to love you all the days of his life. These are the hands that countless times will wipe the tears from your eyes, tears of sorrow and of joy. These hands will passionately love you and cherish you throughout the years. Hands that appear so strong, yet will be gentle when he holds your child for the first time. These are the hands that will tenderly lift your chin as they raise your face to look into his eyes, eyes that are completely filled with his overwhelming love and desire for you.”

The princess stared down at the hands in hers, contemplating the words. Éomer’s strong hands, in hers. Now, and forever. She smiled.

“Éomer, I ask that you take Lothíriel’s hands in yours, so that you may see the gift they are to you.” Éomer did the same, holding her hands in his, gently running his thumbs across her palms. “These are the hands of your wife, holding yours, as she pledges her love and devotion to you all the days of her life. These are the hands that will hold yours through difficult times. These hands will comfort you when you are sick or grieving. These are the hands that will hold each of your children in tenderness and love, encouraging them along the way, and knowing when to let go. These are the hands that will passionately love you through the years, and hold to yours as you grow old together.”

“May the Valar bless the hands. May they always be held by one another. Give them strength yet keep them tender and gentle.”

He smiled at them, motioning to Cam and Amrothos to stand beside them.

“The circle of the ring speaks of the continuous nature of love, for it has no beginning and no end. May these rings represent your declaration of unity and oneness in your life together.”

“Éomer, I have not the right to bind you to Lothíriel, only you have this right. If it be your wish, say so at this time and place your ring in her hand.”

“It is my wish,” he responded, taking the ring from Cam and placing it in her palm.

“Lothíriel, if it is your wish for Éomer to be bound to you, please place the ring on his finger.”

She took the ring, smiling. Cam had remembered. It was a ring she had purchased in Minas Tirith. Four silver bands interlocking to form a braided knot. She slipped it on to his finger. He squeezed her hand gently.

“I take you, Éomer, to be my husband. From this day forward, I promise to love you, forsaking all others, until death parts us.” The king could not suppress his grin.

“Lothíriel, I have not the right to bind you to Éomer, only you have that right. If it be your wish, say so at this time and place your ring in his hand.”

“It is my wish.” Amrothos handed her the ring, and she laid the mithril band in Éomer’s hand, his fingers closing over it.

“Éomer, if it be your wish for Lothíriel to be bound to you, please place the ring on her finger.”

He did so, sliding the delicate mithril band over her small finger, smiling broadly, repeating his vows to her. “I take you, Ani, to be my wife. From this day forward, I promise to love you, forsaking all others, until death parts us.” The sincerity in his eyes made her heart leap.

“Please hold her right hand in your left.”

Éomer did so, releasing her left hand and taking her right.

“I ask you to look into each other’s eyes,” the magistrate continued, as Cam and Amrothos stepped forward on either side of the couple. Cam loosed the ribbons from the flowers, laying the bouquet aside.

“Will you each share the pain of the other and seek to erase it?”

“We will,” they answered in unison.

“And so the binding is made.” Cam and Amrothos wrapped the first ribbon, a red one, around their clasped hands.

“Will you each share the burdens of the other?”

“We will.”

The second ribbon, of white, was also wrapped around their hands.

“Will you take adversity and use it to temper the strength of this union?”

“We will.”

A third ribbon, a green one, was added.

“Will you honor one another?”

“We will,” they responded together, their eyes never leaving each other’s.

The last cord was added, this one of gold.

Cam and Amrothos tied all of the ribbons together, knotting the ends.

“The knots of this binding are not formed by these cords but by the words of your vows and by the bond of your hearts. May the tying of this cord represent an indissoluble union.”

Éomer didn’t wait for permission. He pulled her to him with his free hand behind her neck, capturing her mouth with his.

“You may seal your vows with a kiss,” the magistrate joked, to the amusement of their guests. Laughing, he removed the braided cords from their hands, and handed them to Cam. If Éomer and Anhuil noticed at all, they gave no indication.

~~~~~~~Nan Methen~~~~~~~~~
(The End)
OR IS IT????


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Chapter name
Chapter Thirty Four
29 Jun 2004
Last Edited
29 Jun 2004