Deorwine rubbed his face and tried to think of something that alliterated with "Lady." The Rohirrim were having a feast tonight—the harp would be passed around, and everyone would recite poetry in turn. He wanted to compose something to make Lady Eowyn smile, as she had not done since Theoden King's … illness began. He tried again:

Leaping lightly onto horse, Lady Eowyn rides, lovely

And mightier than many men, on Meare mounted

Sword swinging at her side, swiftly—

That was no good, he decided. "Swinging" –-had she lost control of it? Poetry was harder than he had thought.


Author's Note: The formatting ate the caesura, so let's pretend there's a gap after the comma in the verse. Meare is (I hope) the singular dative version of Mearas.