My relief that the meeting with Éomer had gone well was so overwhelming that I failed to notice how preoccupied Faramir was as we journeyed back to the city. It was not until our horses had been led away to be returned to the stables on the third level, and Faramir had escorted me to the door of the Houses of Healing, that I realized how oddly quiet he had been the entire way, though it seemed he had been listening while I had told him of my time with my brother. “Faramir,” I asked him quietly, dropping his arm, “is everything all right?”

I could not read his expression as he took my hand. As he lifted it to his lips, he whispered, “I will explain later.” Then he lightly kissed the back of my hand, and added in a louder and more formal voice, “Farewell, my lady.” With that, he turned to go, still looking deep in thought.

For the remainder of the afternoon into the early evening, my thoughts were plagued with questions as to what was bothering him. Had something happened with Aragorn? I wondered. Or was it something I had done? And if so, what? Ioreth, whom I had been asked to accompany on her late-afternoon rounds finally got fed up with my silent fretting and dismissed me, saying that apparently keeping my mind on my duties was a lost cause for the day, what with all the excitement of riding out to the encampment and such. I was just finishing a quick supper when one of the guards from the Citadel arrived to announce that the Lord Faramir wished to discuss a matter with the Lady Éowyn, and could I please accompany him back to the Citadel? Being freed from my work for the night, I quickly agreed.

Despite my preoccupation with all the possibilities about what Faramir wanted to tell me, the journey was quick, and it seemed that little time had passed before I was standing in front of the door to the Steward’s office. When Faramir opened the door in response to my knock—I had rapped on the door before the guard could step in to announce my arrival, much to his consternation—I smirked to see that the room seemed to be in an even greater disarray than when I had seen it last. Faramir glanced back to see what I was looking at, then looked back at me and shrugged helplessly while the guard was not looking. “Thank you for answering my summons so quickly, Lady Éowyn,” he said, his reserved tone belied only by a slight twinkle in his blue-grey eyes.

“I am at your service, my lord,” I replied, dropping into a slight curtsy in imitation of his formality.

Faramir dismissed the guard who had brought me there, and once the guard was out of sight he stepped back inside the room and emerged holding a lantern with an already-lit candle. “Will you walk with me, my lady?” he asked, offering his arm once he had shut and locked the door behind him. As we walked, I studied his face to see if I could find any indication of what he was thinking, but to no avail. It was not until we had nearly reached the door that I realized he was escorting me to the hidden garden again. He opened the door quietly and motioned for me to enter. Faramir shut the door behind him, leaving us in the cooler twilight air, and set the lantern on the nearby bench. “I am greatly looking forward to speaking with your brother,” he admitted with uncharacteristic frustration. “It is getting rather tiresome, having to guard my every action around you in public to prevent the spread of any untimely rumors!”

I wondered if this was what he wished to speak to me about, but as he did not seem overly agitated, I could not help teasing him a bit. “It would not have to be so were we in Rohan, my lord,” I said with mock formality.

“Oh?” he answered, raising an eyebrow. “Your people would not talk about us?”

“No, they would talk,” I replied with a grin. “After all, it is not every day that a ruler of a ‘proper’ nation like Gondor takes up with an unruly Rohirric maiden.” I stepped closer to him, continuing, “But even if I walked up to you in the middle of the street and did this…” My voice trailed off as I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling his head closer to mine for a lingering kiss. Once I pulled back slightly, I finished, “It would not be looked down upon, as I suspect it would here.”

“I am quickly developing a greater appreciation for the more informal ways of your people.” Faramir smiled and continued, “I have never seen a man and a woman embrace in such a way in the middle of the street.”

I laughed as I pulled away and admitted, “It is not an everyday occurrence. Usually I would see that most often during a time of celebration, when the ale was flowing a bit too freely. But my mother and father were very open about their affection for each other.” My smile grew a bit wistful as I continued, “Every time my father had to leave, whether it was merely for the day or for a longer period as his duties as Marshal demanded, before he walked out of the door he would pull Mother into his arms and kiss her soundly. It was always the same—Mother would protest about him kissing her ‘in front of the children’, though only halfheartedly and we all knew she enjoyed it, Éomer and I would always act thoroughly disgusted at the display, and Father would only laugh and say that he cared not if all of Rohan saw that he loved his wife.”

Faramir smiled. “It sounds like a good memory to have,” he said, wrapping his arms around me from behind and pulling me close. “I wonder what our children would have to say about you and I?”

“Now, Faramir,” I retorted, turning around in his arms and attempting to look stern, though I suspected I failed miserably, “that question is a little premature, is it not? After all, we are not even officially betrothed yet!”

“A formality I hope to remedy shortly,” he replied, kissing my forehead.

I smiled, but then quickly grew more serious. “Is that what troubles you, Faramir? That you still need to speak to Éomer?”

“I must admit it concerns me a little,” he replied, pulling back, though he did not let go of my hand. He then led me over to the bench, moving the lantern to the ground, and pulled me down next to him. “But no, my love, I am not overly troubled about that right now. I asked to speak with you because there is something I need to tell you, and I did not wish for it to be overheard.”

“What is it?” I asked.

Faramir glanced up at the darkening sky, as if he were not certain how to begin. “While I was meeting with Aragorn this afternoon, he asked me to continue on as the Steward.”

“What?” I exclaimed. “Faramir, this is wonderful news!” I paused, then added uncertainly, “Is it not?”

“I believe it will be for the best,” he replied, smiling a bit then. “I must admit, I was not expecting such an offer at all.”

“And why not?” I retorted. “You know Gondor and its people far better than he would, and it is obvious, to me at least, that they hold you in high esteem. Aragorn would be mad to refuse what advice you could give him.”

Faramir laughed aloud. “My dear shieldmaiden,” he teased gently, “there is no need for you to jump so quickly to my defense when the battle, so to speak, is already over!” He looked down at my hand then, still resting in his, and added, “Though I do appreciate that you would do so if need be.”

“Of course I would,” I said, rubbing the back of his hand with my thumb. We fell silent for a time then, though I noticed that Faramir’s gaze kept drifting over towards the encampment on the Pelennor, where torches had now been lit. From where we were, they looked like mere candle flames against the darkness of the field. I watched him for a time, his face faintly but warmly illumined by the lantern light. “What are you thinking?” I finally asked.

He blinked, looking as one awakening from a dream. He smiled at me tenderly, then said, “I was merely considering how greatly tomorrow will change everything—for both my people and for myself.” There was a faraway look in his eyes as he added, “I had scarcely dared to hope that the King might return in my lifetime. Never would I have dreamed that I would be the one to relinquish the rule of Gondor into his keeping. Boromir, perhaps but…” He paused, then added, “Part of me still thinks it should have been him, not me.”

I took one of his hands and squeezed it gently. “I have no doubt that, wherever the halls of your fathers may be, your brother will be watching tomorrow’s events right along with you.” I smiled a bit sadly and continued, “As is my uncle, I am sure. He would have been glad to know that the throne of Gondor has been filled at last. Though I suspect that, in a way, he knew all along that this was what he was fighting to save, as well as our own lands and people.” I looked up at him then, saddened by the turn my own thoughts had taken in my attempt to comfort him. “We have both lost much in bringing this day to pass, Faramir.”

“Yes,” Faramir replied, his expression softening as he held my gaze while he reached up with his other hand to caress my cheek. “But I have gained far more than I have ever hoped for as well.”

“As have I,” I replied.

I smiled as he wrapped his arms tightly around me again and kissed the top of my head, then stood up and pulled me to my feet. “As much as I would love to continue this, it is getting late. I should escort you back.”

“I know,” I reluctantly conceded. “I am sure you need to leave early.”

He nodded in agreement. “I am taking a carriage down tomorrow, since I will need to bring the King’s crown with me,” he said. “Amrothos and Lothiríel will be riding with me as well; would you like to join us?”

“Of course.” I grinned, then added, “Or would that cause too much of a stir among your people, the proper Steward of Gondor being seen so publicly with a wild maiden of Rohan?”

Faramir laughed, then pulled me back into his arms. “Let them talk, then. Once I have a chance to speak with your brother, I care not who knows how I feel about you.” I could barely hold back another grin as his lips claimed mine once more.

-------

The day of the coronation dawned fair and clear, with the early morning sun warming my skin through the glass the moment I stopped by the window of my room. To one who had been raised in the cooler climate of Rohan, it felt almost as if summer had arrived early, come to greet the soon-to-be-crowned King of Gondor.

I left the window and moved over towards the wardrobe. The white wool of the one gown I had brought with me when I rode to Gondor would feel heavy on a day such as this, but I knew it would have to do nevertheless. Though I greatly appreciated the generosity of the healers in obtaining the other garments I had been wearing, I had to admit that my own dress was best suited for one of the royal family of Rohan to wear for such an occasion. So it was with no little shock that I opened the door to find a green dress, which looked oddly familiar though I knew I had not seen it before, hanging in the front of the wardrobe.

My audible gasp was punctuated by the door opening as Mithríel walked in. “What is the matter, Éowyn?” she asked.

“Where did this come from?” I asked. “Mithríel, if this was your doing, or any of the other women here, you really should not have!”

A mischievous laugh sounded from the hallway before the healer could answer, and Lothiríel poked her head into the doorway. “Do you like it?” she asked. “I do hope it fits all right!”

“You!” I exclaimed, temporarily at a loss for words before continuing, “Where did you get this? How did it get in here?” I paused, then asked, “And what are you doing here?”

“Why, I am here to help you get ready for the coronation, of course,” Lothiríel replied as she entered the room fully, wearing a gown of deep twilight blue and a completely innocent smile on her face. “And I have brought my maidservant with me to assist, since we do not have much time before the men are to arrive. Amrothos had a few of the guards escort us here, but the Steward’s carriage will be here before long to take us to the gates.”

“You did not answer my question,” I demanded.

Lothiríel laughed again as she motioned a tall, slightly plump young woman with raven hair into the room. The maidservant met my eyes for only the briefest moment before bowing her head and ducking into a curtsy. “It would not do at all for a kinswoman of Rohan’s king to arrive to a ceremony such as this so simply dressed, so I took the liberty of making other arrangements for you.”

The maidservant pulled the gown out of the wardrobe and laid it across the bed, allowing me to fully look at it. As I touched the fine, silky cloth, I realized that if my eyes were not deceiving me, it was the very same I had been admiring in the seamstress’s shop on the day the two of us had gone to order my riding clothes. I carefully lifted it up partway, exclaiming, “It’s beautiful!” as I admired the sheen of the cloth and the fine golden embroidery that encircled the neckline and the edges of the sleeves. I could also see that the sleeves were lined in a paler green, which also appeared to peek out of the center of the skirt. “It…” I paused as I realized what about the dress seemed so familiar. “It bears a striking resemblance to the style of my white gown,” I finished dryly.

Lothiríel smiled innocently. “How else was I to find a model for a gown that would be in a more Rohirric style?” she replied lightly. “However, I must give credit where it is due, and I could not have done this without the aid of this fine woman, since I needed someone who could take the measurements without you noticing.” She motioned towards Mithríel, who turned quite crimson.

“Mithríel! You were in on this? And you said nothing?” I blurted out in surprise.

“Forgive me, my lady,” she replied, bowing her head slightly. “The Princess was quite adamant.” But I could not help but notice that she was having difficulty in suppressing her own grin.

 “We also brought you some shoes, though I had to guess at the size since you did not have a second pair to look at. I do hope they fit!”

“I suppose the Gondorian nobility would frown upon wearing riding boots with such a fine dress,” I replied wryly.

“More like the noblewomen,” Lothiríel corrected, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly. Then she grinned mischievously and added, “I highly doubt any of the noblemen will notice what’s on your feet. Not that it will make a difference either way if we do not hurry and get you dressed!”

Within a few minutes, the gown was on and laced up, and Mithríel and the maidservant both took their leave. As Lothiríel began twisting my hair up and pinning it into place, I asked, “So how did you manage to bring this here without me noticing?”

“Simple,” she answered. “While my dear cousin was keeping you away last night, I came over here and left it in your wardrobe. And with your sleeping gown already laid out, I knew you would have no reason to look in the wardrobe before this morning.”

I attempted to twist my head around to look at her, causing her to accidentally poke me with a hairpin. “Ow!” I exclaimed.

“Hold still!” she admonished.

I turned my head back, running my finger over the embroidery on the sleeve in an attempt to distract me from my urge to fidget. “Was Faramir in on this, then?” I asked.

“Oh, no,” Lothiríel replied; it was obvious she was enjoying this. “He knows nothing about it. It will be quite amusing to see his reaction to you, will it not?

“Lothiríel, you are simply incorrigible,” I replied, rolling my eyes despite my inability to suppress a grin.

“I am not blind, Éowyn,” she said, more seriously. “Even if neither of you will admit as much in front of me, I can see that you each care deeply for the other. And it is plain to me as well that Faramir is happier, and more at ease than I have ever seen him, since you have come into his life. My family has long been concerned about him; even more so, since we learned of Boromir’s death.” There was a somber pause, then she continued in a brighter tone of voice again. “So let us consider this a thank-you for helping him. Besides,” she added, “I do consider you a friend, Éowyn, and this was something I could do to help you in return.”

Impulsively, I turned around and hugged her. “Thank you, Lothiríel,” I said.

She smiled, then pinned a final strand of hair into place. “Come on,” she said, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the door. “We cannot keep the men waiting much longer!”

Sure enough, Faramir and Amrothos were already waiting for us downstairs. Most of the healers had already left, save the few who remained behind to care for those wounded who were not yet well enough to leave the Houses. “’Tis about time!” Amrothos teased good-naturedly, looking at Lothiríel. “I had tried to warn Faramir about how long it takes women to get ready for such events, since he has no sisters of his own, but alas, it seems that even I underestimated!”

Faramir, in the meantime, had been looking at me with such wide-eyed admiration that I could feel my face growing hot. Lothiríel smiled broadly as she moved to take her brother’s arm; obviously she had gotten the effect she had desired. Faramir recovered a moment later, offering his arm to me. “You look wonderful,” he whispered as we stepped outside.

“Thank you,” I replied, smiling up at him as he helped me up into the horse-drawn carriage. Besides the one for the Steward’s use, there was a second one waiting with several men inside; they appeared to be wearing the livery of the Citadel guards. “For the crown,” Faramir explained to me as Lothiríel, then Amrothos, joined us inside. As for the cask itself, it was sitting on the seat between myself and Faramir.

Walking would have been a far more comfortable way to travel, I decided as the vehicle, like and yet oddly unlike the wagons used by my people, bounced and jostled us over the paved streets. The rattling of the wheels was punctuated by the driver’s occasional shout to “Make way for the Steward!”, as those late-comers who had not yet made their way down to the city entrance rushed to the sides of the street, many of them calling out greetings to Faramir as we rode by. He always graciously called a greeting back, but otherwise remained mostly silent during the ride, even as Lothiríel and Amrothos kept up a lively conversation with me. Lothiríel in particular could hardly contain her excitement. Besides the coronation and the celebration that was to happen afterwards, she told me that her eldest brother, Elphir, was also to join them that day. He had been set to arrive at the encampment late last evening, and it would be the first time since her father and her other two brothers had ridden to war that her entire family would be together again, save Elphir’s wife, who was with child and did not wish to make the journey.

I smiled and was about to comment when a particularly large jolt threw me up against the cask; had that not been in the way, I surely would have ended up in Faramir’s lap. He helped me sit up, smiling apologetically, and I whispered to him, “Perhaps horses would have been easier.” He smiled, but did not answer, turning the White Rod of his office over idly in his lap.

“Are you all right, cousin?” Lothiríel asked.

Faramir nodded, a serious expression on his face again. “I am merely making certain that I have not left anything out.” He seemed calm enough, but I wondered if he was nervous at all about his role in the day’s events.

We all fell silent then, until the carriage pulled up at the entrance to the city. I looked over at Faramir. “Are you ready?” I whispered to him.

He nodded, looking more certain of himself again as he picked up the Rod and left the carriage first. The rest of us soon followed. The Citadel guardsmen who had been appointed to bear the dark wooden cask holding the crown were already waiting, as were Húrin and Elfhelm. I was to stand with my people for the ceremony, so Faramir escorted me to Elfhelm’s side, then he and Húrin went together to make their way to their place before the city walls; a barrier had been set up where the gates had once stood, and I could see many people already gathered before it, and even more pressed in around them on all sides. After removing the crown from the carriage, the guards bearing the cask followed Faramir and Húrin, then Elfhelm offered me his arm and we joined the small procession.

The peoples’ anticipation was almost tangible in the air around me. Some of the more adventurous children had scrambled atop the remaining parts of the wall and any rubble stable enough to hold their weight in search of a better view; Bergil was among these, and he waved at me cheerfully as he caught my eye. The others on the ground pressed together as closely as they could, often held back only by the soldiers of both Gondor and Rohan who were now returning from the East. The crowd had begun murmuring even more excitedly at the appearance of their beloved Steward, but they still stepped back in order to clear a path for him. We made our way over to the other Rohirrim that stood before the barrier, those that had been left in the city to recover from their wounds or had returned early from Cormallen. Lothiríel, escorted by Amrothos, was close behind me, and she smiled at me as she and her brother moved to stand with a group of people that I assumed were from Dol Amroth; I could see Erchiron standing with them.

I smiled back, but could do no more than that. Once Faramir had stepped into place and turned to face the Pelennor, the crowd fell silent. Even the children were still as the returning soldiers stepped back to clear another path and Aragorn stepped forward, dressed in glittering mail and the black and silver of Gondor with a white mantle draped around his shoulders and a thin silver band around his forehead that was set with a gem of silvery hue. Gandalf walked behind him, carrying his staff and clad all in white that gleamed like the fresh-fallen snow on the mountain peaks near Edoras. With him were the four holbytla—Frodo and Sam to his right, and Merry and Pippin to his left. All four of them had been given fine clothing to wear, and I smiled to see that in addition, Merry wore the leather armor that I had supplied him with back in Dunharrow. Pippin, likewise, wore a much smaller version of the Citadel guards’ uniform, while Frodo wore a mail shirt wrought of some metal that shone unlike any armor I had ever seen and Sam had a coat of gilded mail; all four of them also wore the same grey-green Elven cloaks that Merry had always kept with him. A hushed murmur ran through the assembly at the sight of them, and I smiled to myself, knowing that it was the first time that most of them had ever seen a hobbit. Legolas and Gimli followed, as odd a pair as any would wish to see, and both also dressed finely; it looked as if Gimli had even brushed and neatly rebraided his thick reddish beard for the occasion.

Imrahil walked behind them, dressed in dark blue and silver and with a silver circlet on his brow. Éomer was beside him. His steel and leather armor had been cleaned and polished, and somehow he had managed to procure a fine cloak and tunic, both of a rich green trimmed with gold. I fought hard to suppress a smirk as I wondered who had provided him with that, for I knew that my brother, a soldier to the core, would never have even thought to bring such finery with him into battle. He also wore a thin gold circlet, marking him as the heir to the throne; he would not wear a crown until his own coronation in Edoras. Éomer and Imrahil were followed by a small host of men, along with two Elves that I recognized as the twins that had accompanied Aragorn to Dunharrow. All, including Elladan and Elrohir, were tall and dark-haired, their silver mail shining beneath grey cloaks. The entire party paused then, as a single horn blew from atop the walls, and all fell silent once more. I watched as Faramir stepped forward, with Húrin beside him; he was followed by the four Citadel guards who bore the dark cask that held the crown.

It is difficult for me to put words to how I felt, watching the two men whom my affections had warred between as they stood face-to-face, neither yet speaking. To me, it seemed as if they were far more alike than I had previously realized. I could hardly recognize Aragorn as the somewhat disheveled Ranger that had ridden into Edoras; since I’d last seen him upon my awakening in the Houses of Healing, nearly all traces of that man had been washed away, leaving in his place a living image of the legendary Sea-Kings whose stone likenesses lined the Great Hall of the Citadel. There was an air about him as well that also made him seem almost remote to me now, something that reminded me of the few Elves I’d had contact with—present among us, but with an almost intangible otherworldiness that a mere mortal like myself could never fully comprehend. Faramir faced him steadily, born of slightly lesser blood but no less noble, with a strength in his gaze that showed he could match the Northern Dúnedain. He could be Aragorn’s greatest ally in securing his throne—or his greatest rival, if he had so chosen; my time in Minas Tirith had shown me beyond any doubt that while the people’s loyalty might lie with their new King, their hearts truly belonged to Denethor’s son, who had lived and fought and bled alongside them.

My wandering thoughts were drawn back to the present moment as Faramir knelt, bowing his head briefly before saying in a loud, clear voice, “The last Steward of Gondor begs leave to surrender his office.” As he spoke, he raised the White Rod with both hands.

Aragorn took the Rod from him, holding it for a long moment. Then he handed it back to Faramir. “That office is not ended,” he replied. “It shall be yours and your heirs’ as long as my line shall last. Do now your office!”

A murmur of surprise, then approval, swept through the crowd. Aragorn had indeed chosen well in keeping him as the Steward, I reflected, as Faramir rose to his feet. His voice carried clearly across the field as he called out, “Men of Gondor, hear now the Steward of the Realm! Behold!” He gestured towards Aragorn as he announced, “One has come to claim the kingship again at last! Here is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, chieftain of the Dúnedain of Arnor, Captain of the Host of the West, bearer of the Star of the North, wielder of the Sword reforged, victorious in battle, whose hands bring healing…” For just the briefest moment, his eyes met mine, and I smiled reassuringly at him as he continued, “…the Elfstone, Elessar of the line of Valandil, Isildur’s son, Elendil’s son of Númenor.”

From a little further down the line, I heard one of the Rohirrim whisper to one of his companions, “I wonder if all the Southern kings come with such a long list of titles?” It was all I could do to keep from bursting out laughing as Faramir finished, “Shall he be king and enter into the city and dwell here?”

The assenting shouts from the people were nearly deafening. Once they had died down somewhat, Faramir spoke again. “Men of Gondor, the loremasters tell that it was the custom of old that the king should receive the crown from his father ere he died; or if that might not be, that he should go alone and take it from the hands of his father in the tomb where he was laid.” A strange custom, I thought; none of my people would have dared to disturb the mound of a fallen king. “But since things must now be done otherwise,” Faramir continued, interrupting my thoughts, “using the authority of the Steward, I have today brought hither from Rath Dínen the crown of Eärnur the last king, whose days passed in the time of our longfathers of old.”

The four guards stepped forward and Faramir opened the cask; as he removed the crown he lifted it high so that all the people could see it. I stood close enough to see the pearl-inlaid silver wings on the side, reminding me of the gulls I had seen flying over the gardens of the Houses of Healing. Seven gemstones shone like stars around the edges of it, with a larger one at the top that seemed to hold the light of the sun itself. After Faramir handed the crown over to Aragorn, he held it up and spoke several lines that I could not understand, though it sounded vaguely like Elvish to me. I noted several of the Riders looking at each other in slight confusion as well. To my surprise, Aragorn then handed the crown back to Faramir. For a moment I thought he intended for Faramir to set it on his head, but then he said, “By the labor and valor of many I have come into my inheritance. In token of this I would have the Ring-bearer bring the crown to me, and let Mithrandir set it upon my head, if he will; for he has been the mover of all that has been accomplished, and this is his victory.”

Frodo stepped forward then—a bit shyly, I thought—and took the crown from Faramir’s hands. Faramir smiled at him encouragingly, and to me it looked as if some sort of silent understanding passed between them. I knew that Faramir had held little hope that their paths would cross again, and I was glad to see it. Frodo passed the crown off to Gandalf then; Aragorn knelt before the wizard and Gandalf set the crown upon his head, saying, “Now come the days of the King, and may they be blessed while the thrones of the Valar endure!”

An awed silence remained over the assembly as Aragorn rose to his feet; I knew that I could never fully comprehend what this moment meant to the people of Gondor, since Rohan had never been without a king since the days of Eorl. But I did find little hints, watching the faces of those I had gotten to know during my time in the city. Ioreth, who was standing with a small group of older women, was completely silent for once. I could see Mithríel standing nearby as well, not far from where Bergil and his friends were perched on the wall. Her eyes, however, were not on Aragorn; she kept looking towards a group of Gondorian soldiers, and I could guess that her husband was among these. Several of the younger noble-looking women watched Aragorn with a wide-eyed admiration that made me feel almost embarrassed for them—was that how I had looked at him? I wondered. It seemed so long ago.

It was Faramir who broke the silence. “Behold the King!” he shouted, his statement punctuated by the clear ring of trumpets from the city walls. The people broke into cheers as Aragorn walked towards the barrier and Húrin pushed it aside. The newly-crowned King then entered his city, followed closely by Faramir, the Dúnedain, Gandalf, the four hobbits, and Legolas and Gimli. I could hear music already coming from within the walls.

As the crowd began to disperse and enter the city, I felt a slight nudge at my side and turned to see Éomer there with a conspiratorial grin on his face; somehow he had managed to slip away from the procession without my noticing. “So, little sister,” he said in quietly-spoken Rohirric, “shall we see what kind of celebration these grave men of the South can muster up?”

“My dear brother,” I replied with a smirk, “we both know you are far more concerned with the quality of the food and ale—as are most of your men, I would wager.”

Éomer laughed heartily in response; I had not realized till that moment how much I had missed that laugh, it had been so long since I had heard it. It had been long since either of us had found any joy to be had in the house of our enthralled uncle, I mused. “Too true,” Éomer said, pulling me from my reverie as he took my arm. “And I must admit that I am looking forward to a good meal. I think I could eat an entire wild boar by myself!”

“Then we had best hurry,” I answered. “I saw Merry and Pippin enter the city a few moments ago, and if we do not make haste, there will be no food left at all!” Éomer laughed again we walked past the walls and into Minas Tirith.