He was sprinting through the woods, desperately trying to catch the swift red blur in front of him. But he could never reach it; in fact he could barely even make out its form as it skillfully flitted around trees and under low, grasping branches. Occasionally the red distortion would slow down and then stop altogether, and a vague, familiar outline would form before his vision was distorted by falling leaves or fog. Presently he was attempting to creep up on his quarry, and yet he was unreasonably frightened of what he would discover. And just as his hand was about to descend upon the ghostly red figure to reveal the object of his chase, the apparition dissolved in front of him as butterflies flew about his face. He was startled at first, but the feeling was so gentle and deliberate. It was so real. The sensation could have been likened to the softest kiss. And thinking this, Eomer awoke from his dreams, opened his eyes and found Lothiriel leaning over him, dropping kiss after kiss across his face.
"Lothiriel," he breathed, surprised to receive such a display of affection from her, just as she planted one final, lingering kiss to the side of his lips. She looked down, beaming at him, and he could feel her heavy breaths upon his face. She looked so bright to him. Her eyes were shining, her cheeks were rosy, and she was smiling like he'd rarely seen before. He lifted his hand to touch her face, but she grabbed it, tugging him away from the bed. "Eomer, come look."
Astonished by her unusual but very welcomed morning outburst, he was still gazing at her as she pulled back the thick curtains.
"Look. It's beautiful. It's the first snow, Eomer. Your favorite."
Eomer finally then looked up from Lothiriel and out the window to see Edoras covered in a thick layer of shining white. It was beautiful. And already others were admiring it; children were throwing snow balls, as mothers appeared to call to them to come back inside for a hot drink and extra layers. And he could just spot some men shoveling snow away from their doors.
"So it is," he said, looking down at Lothiriel again, who was pressed up against the window, gazing rapturously at the snow. Eomer quickly remembered that this was her first encounter with it. "Would you like to go out and see it?"
"Oh, yes! What do I wear? Will I get all wet? What kind of shoe is sensible for snow?" she called over her shoulder, as she walked swiftly to their shared dressing room. Eomer followed her, still baffled at her changed demeanor. Was this all it took to make her happy? A bit of snow?
"At least put on a thick pair of stockings and a warm cloak." Eomer suggested as she hunted through drawer after drawer, apparently never satisfied with its contents. He couldn't help but to grin; didn't he say that he loved her disarray?
"Eomer," she looked towards him beseechingly, "could you find my gloves?"
He smiled obligingly, turning and heading back into the bedroom. He was sure she'd left them lying on the desk after her ride yesterday morning.
Yes, there they were, on top of a neglected letter to Eowyn and Faramir. Now that the first snow had fallen, Lothiriel would have more to write about. And Eomer intended to make it something worth writing about.
"Is this good?" Lothiriel asked, practically bouncing toward him, bundled up tightly in her woolen green cloak. "I couldn't find your cloak."
"I left it in my study. We can always come back in and put on more clothing if we get too cold." He reassured her.
"Well come on then," he laughed, taking up her hand and whisking her out the door before she could protest.
And together they spent one very marvelous day in each other's company. And by the end of it both of them felt exceedingly pleased with their endeavors to conquer their shortcomings and get to know the other.