Watching Faramir romping with his grandchildren brought a surge of what felt unpleasantly like envy. Which is ridiculous, Éomer chided himself. Rohan was as prosperous as Gondor, and he was King not merely Prince. Éowyn was still fair, but he preferred Lothiriel, whom no man had ever mistaken for a stripling. Even his grandsons were more numerous!

The envious niggle could not be stilled. Some men had all the luck. The wind blew Faramir’s thick, unbound hair into his eyes. Éomer reached past his meager plaits to settle the straw hat more firmly on his head, for bald scalps burn.