As the days passed, life fell into a comfortable routine. I would spend the days working with the healers, and the few free afternoons I had were usually spent in Lothiríel’s company. Faramir was still quite busy putting the city in order, but with Amrothos’s help, he was able to find a little time nearly every evening to spend with me. Most of that time was spent simply talking and getting to know one another better. And as I learned more about Faramir, my love for him continued to grow, so much so that I could not help wondering how I could have ever believed myself to be in love with Aragorn. Whatever I thought I had felt for him, it was a mere shadow compared to what I felt when I was with Faramir.

Though I was grateful for the time spent with him, however, I was becoming increasingly restless with each passing day. And though I tried to hide it, lest Faramir think he was the source of the problem, it soon became apparent that I could not conceal it from him. We were walking through Finduilas’s garden in the Citadel early one evening, neither of us saying much, when he looked over at me and said, “You seem troubled.”

“A little, perhaps,” I answered, walking over towards the wall and leaning my arms on the top of it.

“Is something wrong?” Faramir asked as he moved to stand next to me.

I gave him a sad half-smile. “I am not certain,” I replied. He gave me a questioning look, and I quickly added, “But it is not you, Faramir.” He smiled a bit at this, but waited patiently for me to continue.

I began pacing a bit as I talked. “I have not heard from Éomer since I sent Éothain back to him. I cannot help wondering if he is still angry with me for staying.”

“I doubt that,” Faramir replied, grabbing my arm lightly and forcing me to pause and look at him. “I would be quite surprised if he was even angry with you when he sent his request in the first place. I can only guess at what he is thinking since I do not know him, nor did I have a sister, but it seems to me that he was more concerned to see for himself whether you were well than anything else.”

“But he must think that I do not wish to see him,” I answered sadly. “We have never fought for so long before.”

“Then perhaps he is only waiting for you to make the first move, Éowyn,” he said gently, taking both of my hands in his.

“Perhaps so.” I looked up, a new determination rising within me to resolve things with my brother as soon as possible. “I shall have to find a way to send a message to him, then. Do you know if the armies are still at Cormallen?”

Faramir smiled. “I had wanted to tell you earlier, but I wanted to be certain that you were all right first,” he answered. “A messenger arrived just before I sent for you. The armies are returning, and they should be arriving two days from now.”

“Really?” A smile lit up my face at the thought of seeing Éomer again. “This is wonderful news! And I can hardly wait for you to meet him, Faramir. I do hope that you and he will get along.”

“From what you have told me, he is a good, fair man,” Faramir replied, smiling warmly at me. “I am certain that we will get along just fine.”

“He can be a little protective of me, though, especially about other men,” I warned him. With good reason, I added silently, a prick of guilt stabbing me as I remembered I had not yet told Faramir about Wormtongue. But just as quickly, I decided that there would be time for that later. “I hope he will not give you too much of a hard time about this.”

“Éowyn,” he said, his grey-blue eyes looking deeply into mine, “I swear to you that I will do whatever I must to win your brother’s consent. And you are worth any amount of trouble that Éomer, or anyone else in Rohan or Gondor, could give me.”

“Thank you,” I replied softly, a soft smile returning to my face. “That means a great deal.”

Faramir pressed a light kiss against my forehead, smiling at me as he withdrew, then slipped his arm around my waist as I rested my head lightly against his shoulder. After awhile, I looked up and asked, “Will everything be ready in time for their arrival, do you think?” Over the last several days, large numbers of people from the surrounding towns and provinces of Gondor, as well as the last of the refugees from Minas Tirith itself, had been pouring into the city to await the coming of their King. Even with the reduced population of the White City’s latter days, Faramir and the other officials had been hard-pressed to find accommodations for them all.

“It should be,” Faramir replied.  “I know that the returning armies will remain encamped on the Pelennor, so there is no need to find room for the new arrivals to sleep, and all is set in order for the coronation. Unless there is some other long-buried custom, without which the rightful King cannot be properly crowned, that has been completely overlooked by both myself and Amrothos, not to mention the eldest and wisest of the loremasters of Gondor,” he added, shaking his head.

I rolled my eyes slightly. “Yes, I can imagine that with all the ceremony needed to make a Steward, crowning a King in this land would be a logistical nightmare.”

Faramir smiled, looking amused. “Well, my lady, your people need not fear that the entire event will be completely solemn. Once the initial ceremony is out of the way, I am certain that there will be enough celebrating and feasting to keep many a Rider satisfied.”

“Perhaps so,” I replied with a grin. “But can you be certain that we will leave enough of the feast for your people to enjoy themselves as well?”

“I have no doubt of that,” Faramir said. Then a wicked gleam lit his eyes as he added with a chuckle, “Unless our dear friends from the Shire get to it first.” I burst out laughing at this as he pulled me into his arms, and it was long before any thought of Éomer, or how he would react to Faramir, crossed my mind again that evening.

xxxxxxx

The evening before the armies were scheduled to arrive, Faramir sent a message saying that he had been summoned to meet Aragorn at their encampment the next day in order to report on the progress made in rebuilding the city, as well as to work out the final details of the coronation. He wanted to know if I wished to go as well, to see if I could speak with Éomer. I readily accepted the offer, though I could not help feeling apprehensive about actually going to the camp. After all, I had parted with my brother on such ill terms, not to mention that the thought of possibly running into Aragorn again was renewing the shame I felt over how deceived I had been in my feelings for him. I still had a tiny, nagging doubt in the back of my mind about how I would react when I saw him once more, and how that would affect my still-new relationship with Faramir. But at the same time, I was determined not to let these fears stand in the way of the chance to reconcile things with Éomer.

As it turned out, the party that was to ride out to the camp had expanded. Faramir had decided to leave the city in the charge of Lord Húrin for the day, and Amrothos had agreed to assist him, but Lothiríel refused to be left behind as well. She told me she had not seen her father or her brother Erchirion since they had ridden to war, and I could perfectly understand her wish to see for herself that they were both well. Besides the three of us, Elfhelm had received a summons from Éomer, and when I saw him in the stable preparing to ride out I immediately asked him to join us. My motives were purely selfish, of course; I hoped he would be willing to assist me in finding an opportunity to speak with my brother. And, though it pained me to admit it, I was much less apprehensive about going to see him in the company of one of my countrymen than alone with Faramir. That would complicate the situation even more, if Éomer suspected that our relationship ran deeper than the most basic of friendships.

Despite my qualms about that, since propriety demanded that we should maintain our distance—and particularly because Faramir and I had agreed that it would be best if we took care not to show much affection towards each other in public until we had a chance to approach my brother and obtain his blessing—I could not help wishing for his company as we rode out of the city towards the encampment that had been hastily erected late on the previous day. Faramir had grudgingly agreed to an escort, though he only allowed three of the Citadel guards to accompany him, and was riding near the front of the group just behind the black-clad soldiers. Elfhelm and I rode behind, also accompanied by two of the Rohirrim that had been laboring in the first circle. Lothiríel had refused Amrothos’s offer of a guard and insisted that she would be sufficiently protected since all the party she rode with would be proven warriors; after saying this, she directed a mischievous smile at me when her brother was not looking. She stayed close to me as we rode as if she hoped to relieve my obvious apprehension, making a valiant attempt to distract me with tales of life in Dol Amroth. As much as I appreciated her efforts, they were completely wasted on me, and she eventually lapsed into silence.

Finally, we reached the camp, making our slow way through the soldiers there. Faramir occasionally called out a greeting to one or other of the men who hailed him joyfully; I could only assume that they had served under his command. I could not help but notice the whispers among the men, especially those of the North, as I rode past. It appeared to me that Lothiríel had never been to a soldiers’ camp before; she seemed a little uncomfortable with all the attention and, whether she realized it or not, let her horse fall back a little more towards the guards. Upon dismounting, Faramir immediately moved towards the large pavilion that stood near the center of the camp and began speaking with the guards outside. I dismounted from Windfola’s back and fidgeted with the reins that I now held loosely in my hands, uncertain of what to do next. Elfhelm, who had just dismounted from his own horse, turned towards me and said, “It might be best if you wait here, my lady. I do not know if Lord Éomer will wish to stay to hear Lord Faramir’s report or not.”

“Very well,” I replied, though I could feel my insides twisting in knots at the thought of delaying our meeting; I just wanted to get it over with.

“Marshal Elfhelm!” I heard Faramir call out as he approached the two of us. “I have been told that your King is currently with the Lords Aragorn and Imrahil. Would you prefer to accompany us now, or wait until he is finished?”

Elfhelm looked over at me, then answered simply, “I will go now, if that is all right, my lord.”

“It is.” Faramir indicated for him to follow; before he turned to go, his eyes briefly met mine and he gave me a reassuring smile. I returned it as best as I could, then returned to my fidgeting as soon as he had gone.

Lothiríel gave me a sympathetic smile, then politely bid me goodbye; she was anxious to seek out her brother Erchirion, which I could understand perfectly. Then she left, escorted by one of the Gondorian guards. I stood there uncomfortably for a long moment. As anxious as I was to see my brother, I was suddenly all too aware that Aragorn was with him, and I was no longer certain that I was ready to face him again. Especially not with Faramir around. But in the end, my curiosity and desire to reconcile things with Éomer won out over my apprehension. I looked over at the Rohirric guards, who were occupied with guarding their horses, as well as mine and Elfhelm’s; they did not appear to pay attention at all as I approached the spacious tent where the leaders of the West were meeting.

As I drew closer, I could hear the customary formalities being exchanged. I could also hear Éomer’s voice naturally projecting above the others as he greeted Faramir politely, and with a good deal more enthusiasm in his tone as he greeted Elfhelm. I was surprised when shortly thereafter, he asked, “My lords, if these matters do not concern Rohan I would like to request permission to withdraw. I have much that I need to discuss with my Marshall.”

“Most of my report deals with the progress in rebuilding the city and the surrounding areas,” Faramir stated. “And there are a few matters regarding tomorrow’s ceremony that need to be discussed, but I do not believe there are any changes regarding your people, my lord.”

“And if there are, I will be certain to send word. You have my permission to go, Éomer.” That voice was Aragorn’s, I was certain of it. Though his words were formal, there was a warmth in his tone that told me that my brother and the soon-to-be King of Gondor had become fast friends by this point. I tried not to think of all the possible ways that this could complicate things as Éomer bid the others farewell.

Realizing I was about to be caught eavesdropping, I hastily moved away from the entrance, peering around the side of the tent as Elfhelm and Éomer stepped outside. Once the tent flap had closed behind them, Elfhelm turned to my brother and said, “My lord, before I give you my report, it is my duty to inform you that you have a visitor.” I wondered if he knew where I had concealed myself, or if it was just my imagination that his gaze moved past Éomer towards my tent corner.

“Can it not wait?” Éomer groaned. “From what little I have heard, it will likely take us the next three days, at least, to sort through the state of affairs in Rohan and whatever else needs to be done before we depart. We have but a few hours’ time today, if that.”

“She was most insistent, my lord.” This time, there was no mistaking the twinkle in Elfhelm’s eyes as he looked towards me.

“She?” Éomer repeated, surprise and hope mingled in his tone. I could put it off no longer. I gathered my courage and stepped out into the open just before Éomer turned towards me. “Good day, brother,” I said softly.

For a moment, Éomer looked as if he scarcely believed it was truly me. Then his face lit up in a wide grin. “Éowyn!” he exclaimed, rushing over and pulling me into a wild embrace that lifted me off my feet and spun me around; as he did so, I barely noticed that Elfhelm politely backed off, joining the other Rohirrim by the horses. For that moment, he was not the acting King of Rohan and I was no longer the wayward soldier who had failed to follow orders and was awaiting her doom; we were simply brother and sister again, the way it had been in that nearly-forgotten time before Théoden’s decline. Once my feet were on the ground once more, he asked anxiously, “I did not hurt you, did I?”

“No, Éomer,” I said, my face relaxing into a smile, “my arm does not trouble me any longer. The healers have finally given me leave to go without my sling.”

“Good, good, I am glad to hear it. But tell me, Éowyn,” he said as he pulled me away from the tent, his eyes still searching my face anxiously, “how are you faring?”

I knew that he was concerned over much more than my health, and I rested my hand on his arm in an attempt to set his mind at ease. “It has been difficult,” I replied before raising my eyes to his and continuing, “but I believe I am very nearly well, save one thing only.”

“And what is that?” Éomer’s grey eyes were clouded with worry.

“I need to ask your forgiveness, Éomer.” I bowed my head and continued, “You were right. I disobeyed orders and forsook my duty to my king and my people. I have regretted the pain I caused you ever since you rode to the battle.” I swallowed hard, then lifted my eyes to his. “And I will willingly bear whatever punishment you deem appropriate upon our return to Rohan.”

Éomer blinked in disbelief. “Éowyn,” he said, “did you really think I was going to punish you for this?” I looked down again. “After Merry arrived in Cormallen without you, and then Éothain came back without you…” He paused, running a hand through his hair. I glanced up, sensing that whatever he had to say was difficult for him; though he could certainly speak his mind with full conviction, Éomer had never been one who could express feelings in words very easily. Finally, he continued in a quieter tone, “After that, I spent a great deal of time speaking with Gandalf and Merry. I think I understand why you did it now. And…I think…if our places had been reversed, it is likely that I would have done the same.”

I looked up fully then. “Would you?” I asked.

Éomer shook his head. “I cannot say for certain. I can only begin to imagine what it was like for you, having to spend day after day watching our uncle fall further into darkness, with that—that thing always watching you.” An angry look crossed his face, followed swiftly by deep regret. “I should have done more to protect you, ‘Wyn. Perhaps then it would not have come to this.”

“You did all you could,” I replied, resting my hand on his arm again. “Your duty was to watch over our people, and mine was to watch over our King. It could not have been any different.”

“Perhaps not,” he said. “But I still wish that it had not driven you to the battle. I cannot forget the desperation I saw in your eyes the last time I saw you.” He looked pained at the memory, but it faded from his expression as he said quietly, “Yet you seem more at peace now than I have seen you in a long time.”

“And that is why I cannot truly say I regret coming here,” I replied, then nodded towards where Elfhelm was still waiting. “I have much I need to tell you, Éomer, but I think it shall have to wait until you are more at liberty. It is too long a tale for now, especially since you have your duty to attend to.”

Éomer sighed heavily. “I suppose you are right. I am beginning to wish that Théoden or Théodred had informed me of how much work being a king involved!” A humorless smirk crossed his face for a moment before he admitted, “There is so much about it that I never even considered. “I wonder sometimes if I am equal to the task.”

“Uncle Théoden believed you were,” I said softly. “And he would not have entrusted this to you if he did not believe you could do it.”

He smirked slightly. “That sounds familiar.”

“And it is the truth,” I insisted.

“And I suppose I should get back to it,” he said reluctantly, “though I hate to leave you alone here.”

“Do not worry, brother,” I said. “I will not run off again.”

“Even so,” he replied, “I have a feeling that this is going to take awhile.” Suddenly, he grinned. “And I know a certain holbytla who will never forgive me if he learns you were here and he was not informed.”

“Merry is here?” I exclaimed. “I would like to see him again, if I could.”

“And that can be arranged easily enough,” Éomer said. He went to speak to Elfhelm for a moment, then returned. “I have a good guess as to where he might be. Shall we go?”

I nodded, and we began walking through the encampment. As we walked, I noticed that several of the younger soldiers, both Rohirric and Gondorian alike, were openly staring at me, while some of the older ones murmured among themselves just as they had upon my arrival at the camp. “Why does everyone keep looking at me, Éomer?” I asked quietly. “Surely it has not been so long since any of them saw a woman!”

“No, it seems your reputation as the one who slew the Captain of the Dark Lord’s armies spread quite rapidly. I know that among our people, at least, they hail you as a hero.” He smiled wryly and added, “My sister, the war hero. I never would have guessed that such a thing would come to pass.”

“Neither would I,” I replied softly.

We fell silent then, until I spotted four small figures sitting outside of one of the tents. Éomer turned to me and grinned, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Wait here,” he said, motioning for me to move behind one of the tents, then headed for the Halflings. “Meriadoc!” he called out in a stern voice.

I watched as one of the hobbits jumped to his feet, then bowed. “My Lord Éomer,” he said respectfully, then added, “how may I be of service?”

“I have a duty for you to perform, Merry,” Éomer said, a completely serious look on his face. Merry looked at him questioningly, and Éomer continued, “I need you to keep one of my Riders entertained while I attend to some business.”

Merry looked distinctly confused now. “My lord?” he asked, then shrugged it off. “Well, I’ll do my best. Who is it?”

I could resist no longer. “Dernhelm,” I called out, stepping into view.

Merry’s face lit up. “Éowyn!” he called out, running towards me. I knelt down so I would be on his level, and he gave me an enthusiastic hug. “It’s wonderful to see you!”

“It is good to see you again as well, Merry,” I replied, smiling as he pulled back.

“How are you? Oh, I didn’t hurt your arm, did I? How’s Faramir? Is he here too?”

I held up my hands, laughing at the barrage of questions. Clearly, in spite of how troubled he had been when he left Minas Tirith, Merry was back to his old self. “I am well, my arm has healed, and yes, Faramir is here as well, though he is currently meeting with Lord Aragorn,” I replied.

“Faramir?” Éomer asked, raising an eyebrow at the informality as he looked at me.

I straightened as I replied, “Lord Faramir was recovering from a battle wound in the Houses of Healing while I was there; he and Merry and I spent a good deal of time together before he was released.” My face colored slightly despite my best efforts to appear calm, and I hoped it was not too obvious.

“Oh yes, the Steward. So he is a friend of yours?”

Éomer’s tone was neutral, but I could not quite read the expression on his face. Did he suspect anything? I wondered. I needed to find a way to tell him about Faramir, and soon, I realized. If I delayed too long and Éomer did guess the truth about my relationship with the Steward, it would cause far too many problems. But it was a conversation far too involved to begin now, and in Merry’s presence, so I simply replied, “He has become a good friend, yes.”

Éomer nodded slightly, looking thoughtful. “I see.” He paused for a moment, then said, “I must return; Marshal Elfhelm will be wondering what has become of me. Merry, I believe that Lady Éowyn’s party will be departing the King’s pavilion, if you would not mind escorting her there in awhile.”

“It would be my pleasure, my lord,” Merry replied with a gallant bow that made the smile return to my face. Éomer gave him a solemn nod, though I could tell he was having a difficult time suppressing a laugh from the twinkle in his eyes. As soon as he departed, Merry turned to me and said, “You look like you’re doing better.”

“I am,” I answered. “Though I must say, things in the Houses have been much duller since you left, Merry.” A grin flashed across my face briefly, then faded as I asked, “Your friends that were injured—are they well?”

“Oh yes, quite healed,” Merry said cheerfully, beginning to walk over to where the other three Halflings were sitting and motioning for me to follow. “I mean, Frodo and Sam are still regaining their strength, but that’s to be expected. You remember Pippin, of course.” He motioned to one of the hobbits, who grinned at me cheerfully, then indicated each of the others in turn. “And this is Frodo Baggins, and Samwise Gamgee.”  These two Halflings did look as if they were still healing from a long illness—though, from what little I had heard, I was perhaps not far off the mark in that assessment. Frodo, in particular, looked far older than any of them, and I noticed that his hand was still bandaged. “Frodo, Sam, this is the lady Éowyn of Rohan,” Merry added, bringing me out of my thoughts. The two hobbits greeted me kindly enough, though Frodo’s smile seemed a bit tired and forced, and Samwise’s rather shy.

Merry excused himself from their company then, and the two of us walked a little way off. He told me of the journey to Cormallen and how he had found his friends upon his arrival, and in turn I told him what had passed in the city since his departure, though I was careful to leave the more personal details about myself and Faramir out of it. Even so, once I had finished and we had begun the walk back to the pavilion, Merry said, “It seems that you and Faramir have seen a lot of each other since I left.”

“Well, we did become friends during your stay, remember?” I gently reminded him, hoping the sudden warmth I felt in my face would not give too much away.

“Oh, is that all?” Merry asked slyly with a wide grin on his face.

“Merry!” I exclaimed, certain that my face was a deep shade of crimson by this point.

Merry’s smile faded. “I hope I didn’t offend you,” he said earnestly. “It’s just, I know he cares about you a great deal, and I thought…”

His voice trailed off, and he looked so forlorn that I sighed. “Merry, I beg you, do not breathe a word of that around anyone, especially my brother,” I pleaded.

Merry looked more cheerful again, oddly enough. “Does this mean I was right?” he asked innocently.

I laughed out loud at that. “You truly have not changed a bit, Merry.”

“And you have not answered my question,” he countered with a grin.

Rolling my eyes, I lowered my voice and said, “There is no formal arrangement between us.”

“But you do have feelings for him,” Merry insisted. My face grew hot again, and Merry’s grin grew wider. “I knew it!”

“I do not wish to discuss that now,” I replied firmly; we were drawing near the pavilion. I was not surprised to see that Éomer was not yet there, as I was certain that he had much to discuss with Elfhelm. When he did come into sight a few minutes later, I was surprised to see that he was accompanied not only by Elfhelm, but he was also walking with Lothiríel and an unfamiliar dark-haired man that I could only assume was her other brother. It seemed that Éomer and the Gondorian had formed at least some acquaintance, as he was talking and laughing with Éomer and Elfhelm while Lothiríel listened attentively, only occasionally offering a comment of her own. It seemed to me that she was intimidated by my brother; it struck me as odd, as I had never yet known her to act so unsure of herself.

Éomer smiled when he saw me and hurried over. “I hope I did not keep you waiting long,” he said.

“Not at all; Merry and I were simply catching up,” I replied, smiling at the Halfling. Éomer nodded approvingly, and I asked, “And how did your meeting go?”

“We still have much to discuss, my lady,” Elfhelm said. “But we have made a beginning.”

Yes, a beginning, I thought. I knew that it would be quite some time before things were the way they used to be between Éomer and myself, or before I would be able to fully repair the breach I had created between myself and my people, but at least this day’s journey had been a start.

Shortly after Lothiríel—who still seemed a good deal more subdued than usual—had introduced her companion as her brother Erchirion, there was a rustling at the entrance to the King’s tent and the other guards from the Citadel emerged, followed closely by Faramir and then Prince Imrahil. I was relieved to see that Aragorn did not join them. Upon seeing his daughter, the Prince’s eyes lit up, and he quickly moved to embrace her warmly. I stepped away slightly, not wishing to intrude upon the family reunion; Éomer and Elfhelm did the same. Erchirion, on the other hand, stepped forward, grasping Faramir’s arm in a soldierly manner before embracing him. “It is wonderful to see you on your feet again, Cousin!” he said enthusiastically. “When we heard you had been wounded, we feared that we had lost you.”

“Nay, it seems you shall not be rid of me so easily,” Faramir said with one of his rare unguarded smiles. “And what of you? Your father tells me you were wounded at the Gate.”

“’Tis but a scratch,” Erchirion said lightly, “no matter what he might tell you.”

I was surprised to hear Éomer’s undignified snort from beside me. “That is not what I heard that you said when they were sewing you up.”

Erchirion turned towards him with an exaggerated grimace. “Must you insist on making me look bad in front of the ladies?” he groaned, though I could see a twinkle in his eyes that indicated that this was not the first time they had verbally sparred. It did not surprise me; with his build it seemed that this particular son of Imrahil’s was a warrior through and through, which would explain his quick friendship with my brother.

Lothiríel glanced over from where she was talking with her father, a sly grin on her face. “I can hardly be counted in that assessment, brother. I already know all the ill things there are to know about you.” Éomer smirked at that, and Lothiríel’s face flushed faintly as she turned back towards Imrahil. I briefly grinned to myself, thinking I might need to ask Lothiríel just what, exactly, had passed between her and my brother at some later point.

“All the same, I am glad to see that you are well,” Faramir said, interrupting my thoughts and smiling at his cousin. I had been able to see a slight trace of wistfulness in his eyes as he had watched the banter between Erchirion and Lothiríel, and could easily guess that he was thinking of the brother he had lost so recently. But all traces of it were gone now.

“My lord,” one of the Gondorian guards spoke up, “should we not return to the city soon? It is getting late.”

“Yes, Adrahil,” Faramir replied before turning towards the others. “My lords, I fear we are unable to stay any longer today, but I thank you for your time.” His eyes briefly met mine, then he purposefully turned towards Lothiríel and asked, “Cousin, may I escort you to your horse?” I understood completely. It was not the time, not until we had spoken to Éomer.

“Of course,” Lothiríel replied smoothly, embracing her father and brother one more time before taking the arm that Faramir offered.

“Éowyn?” Éomer asked, offering his arm to me in a similar manner. As I took it, Imrahil smiled at me kindly. “It is good to see you well again, my lady,” he said.

“Thank you, my lord,” I replied, bowing my head. “And it was a pleasure to meet you, my lord,” I added as I looked towards Erchirion.

In reply, Erchirion grinned and took my hand, kissing it lightly. “The pleasure is all mine, my lady,” he said.

Faramir’s gaze briefly shot over towards his cousin, an unreadable look on his face. Thankfully, Éomer did not seem to notice as he rolled his eyes. “Have a care, man,” he groaned. “I am certain you would not wish me to act in such a manner towards your sister.”

“I am simply being polite, my friend,” Erchirion retorted, grinning towards Lothiríel, who merely shook her head.

“Very well,” Éomer retorted, laughing. “But I will be watching to make sure it remains just that—politeness!” He grinned at me and added, “Come, sister.” I forced a smile back, though I was beginning to wonder what this protectiveness he displayed would mean when I told him about Faramir. I quickly bid farewell to Merry before taking his arm, then remained silent until we reached Windfola. Éomer then turned to me and wrapped his arms around me tightly—a rare display of affection, since we were in public. “I am glad you came today, Éowyn,” he said softly to me.

“As am I, Éomer,” I replied; as I mounted Windfola and looked back at him, my smile was genuine now, and the lighthearted feeling that I had stayed with me for the entire journey back to Minas Tirith.