The camp at Cormallen, April 3019 TA

Elfhelm walked into Eomer's tent ignoring the guards trying to stop him. Once inside he barked:

"Whores! Out!"

His Westron sufficed for that. He pointed his thumb at the exit for good measure.

To Eomer's protests he replied in Rohirric:

"Shut up! It's important and urgent!"

One of the women demanded:

"What about the money?"

Eomer slapped her for her insolence, making her fall onto the tent's floor.

Elhelfm helped her up. He winced inwardly at the sight of her shaved crotch. He did not approve. Having hair THERE was what separated girls from women. A taste for ploughing bald cunny hinted at a child-fucker and – with seven daughters of his own – Elfhelm was wary of having such men in the Mark. He hoped the shaved cunny's presence in Eomer's tent was by accident and not by design.

"To tent with wolf banner at sunset come", he told the semi-decent and loudly complaining sexual workers as he pushed them out. He then turned to his liege lord who was shimmying up his breeches, oblivious of the leavings dripping from his manhood.

"Wassup?" – the King of the Mark inquired in a muffled voice as he was pulling a tunic over his head, brown aureoles and puckered nipples barely visible through the russet curls covering his broad, muscled chest.

"It's about Eowyn. There is a problem ..."

A week previously in Minas Tirith

Faramir stood next to the Wraithsbane. His thoughts whirled around how smart, how pretty and how much in denial she was! Anybody who was not blind could see how smitten she was with him! She just needed a little nudge to be able to admit this to herself. He took Eowyn in his arms and kissed her on the mouth, in plain sight of the whole city. After such a scandalous public display of affection it would be unthinkable for her to refuse a marriage proposal from him! He could feel the engagement ring burning a hole in his pouch as he forced his eager tongue, well practiced from having learned a dozen languages, between her cold, wind chilled lips, and chapped from lack of TLC ...

Looking up upon their betters the hoi polloi inhabiting the lower Circles of the city thought either "lucky bugger" or "how romantic" at the sight of the Steward embracing (groping – if one were to take an unkind view of the proceedings) and kissing the Barbarian Princess.

The said princess was shocked at the events and initially froze, only her eyes becoming big and round like a mumak's! This was exactly the situation she had dreaded for the last few years – of being grabbed and groped and kissed and ... UGH!

Eowyn also knew enough about Gondorian mores that now she would be expected to marry the cad! The Gondorian was like kinda cute and like totes hawt – albeit big nosed – but this was too much too fast! Her breathing became heavy and ragged making her nostrils flare like a high strung filly's. Eowyn shoved the tall, dark and handsome Steward away and sharply slapped his impressive snout.

The raven haired, slate eyed beefcake exclaimed:

"My lady! This is madness!"

She pulled back her good arm and yelled:
"This!"
"Is!"
"Rohan!"
POW!
SOCK!

Action moves back to the "ranch", i.e the Rohirric part of the encampment ...

" ... and so, my Liege, the cad fell to his death. Before the day was out Eowyn commandeered a dozen Riders and rode out. She was last seen crossing the Entwash River and heading north."

Elfhelm continued his report, with some respect slipping into his voice when describing the errant Regent's acts. He omitted his suspicion that at least one of the other Riders had been a girl too.

The King's bloodshot, hung-over eyes were drilling holes in him. The sovereign's alcohol laden bog breath did not make his reporting any more pleasant.

"How ... how could you ... could you let her go ..."

The Marshal shrugged.

"I did not have much choice. It was let her go or have the Gondorians nab her for trial. Messy case of manslaughter versus a counterclaim of sexual harassment. You know very well how such cases go." - Elhelm glared at the still "innocent until proven guilty" Eomer to refresh his memory of such cases. - "I had to let her go."

The seven-times blessed commander continued.

"Once again she showed to have a good head on her shoulders – she turned away any volunteers who were married or did not have younger brothers, thus not leaving estates headless or without heirs. Your sister also took two or three older men with her, all experienced under-officers. And I forced her to swear to obey them in matters military ..."

Latter that day, after sunset, Elfhelm was joined in his tent by several sex workers whose acquaintance he had made that morning. They left in the morning, well paid and happy as the tall, light haired and handsome Rohirr had used their services while respecting their autonomy. And had plied them with alcoholic beverages and nutritious yet not fattening food.

Eowyn escaped to Rhun and settled down amongst the distant kin of the Rohirrim. In Rhovanion she pursued a satisfying and successful career as a mercenary and judicial champion. She gave generous discounts to the women she fought for. This made her known as the "Cockblock Princess" among the locals who prided themselves on their earthy humour.

Eomer the "always up" ruled the Mark for three years before succumbing to an exotic illness he had acquired during his sojourn in Gondor. This produced a minor succession problem. He ultimately was succeeded by his cousin Thiriston, the son of Amalasvinta, one of the four daughters of Thengel King and sister to Theoden King just like Eomer's and Eowyn's mother Theodwyn had been. Amalsvinta, unlike Theodwyn, had married outside the Mark, to a minor lord in Gondor. After assuming the throne Thiriston changed his name to Wolfram to sound more Rohirric. To gain support amongst the lords of the realm he married Saterdag, the sixth daughter of Marshal Elfhelm.