Éomer kissed his sister goodnight before setting off for the stables. As he walked, he spotted the figure of a woman heading towards the Citadel. He caught a glimpse of her face. He knew that face! It was the face of the girl he met five years ago. Was she a vision who grew in height and matured in appearance as he aged? Perhaps, but it seemed to be more than a coincidence he should see her in Minas Tirith right after a battle.
After he visited Firefoot, Éomer met Prince Imrahil. Éomer said, "Sir, I want to express my gratitude for saving my sister's life."
"I did not save her life, but merely saw life still dwelt in her," Imrahil gently corrected. "But speak not of it. My sons have taken care of lodging for your men and their horses. However, I invite you to stay beneath my roof for tonight."
Éomer hesitatingly said, "I am not sure…I do not mind sleeping in the stable hayloft."
"Sleep in the stable?!" Imrahil exclaimed. "As long as I have the power, I cannot allow the King of Rohan sleep in a stable when I have room in my house."
"Then I must accept," Éomer answered with a smile.
The two reached Imrahil's Minas Tirith home. It was a large building built of silvery grey stone. A small iron gate led up a paved path on the green lawn. Flowers, not yet in bloom, grew from the colorful window boxes. It was a wondrous sight after the carnage on the battlefield and the depression in the Houses of Healing. They entered through a dark blue door and into a large room with an alcove on the right that contained a dining table with chairs. Further down the spacious hall awaited what seemed to be a parlor of some sort. An aromatic scent wafted through the house.
"I know this is not quite the way you would arrange a house," explained Imrahil after noting Éomer's curious glances. "My wife arranged the place according to functional efficiency. Our private armory is this way."
He led Éomer through to a side room close to the door where they found Erchirion and Amrothos cleaning their armor. They immediately left their gear to help Imrahil and Éomer remove their armor.
"Elphir is finishing up the lodging arrangements," said Erchirion after greeting his father and newfound friend.
Imrahil nodded approvingly and asked, "And what is your sister up to?"
"Finishing up supper or airing out the guestroom," answered Amrothos. "She would not let me in the kitchen, so I hope she is making something edible."
Imrahil laughed and remarked, "After living in the Houses of Healing for four years, I am sure she can distinguish edible plants from nonedible."
Amrothos mumbled, "But it depends on what it tastes like."
Éomer unbuckled his greaves and sighed, "It must have been great fun to grow up in a large family."
"As long as it is not too large," laughed Erchirion. "I hear that six and more children can be quite a burden. Don't bother cleaning your gear now, we can do it after supper." A merry bell tinkled. "And that must be the dinner bell!"
The four men trooped into the kitchen. A large crock of a beef stew with a loaf of bread sat on a table set for four. However, no woman was to found in the spotless kitchen. Instead, a note rested on Imrahil's bowl.
Imrahil read aloud, "I have already eaten my portion to make sure the food was edible. As I am quite weary, I hope you do not mind eating without me. The best guestroom is aired and ready for his lordship."
"That's Lothíriel for you," remarked Erchirion. "Always keeping to herself."
"That is only what you know," interrupted Amrothos. "You have not kept up with her for the last ten years."
"She has been gone for five," Erchirion retorted.
Imrahil interposed, "Boys! Is there a reason for the two of you to argue and prevent us from eating a meal free of strife?"
Éomer smiled inwardly. Siblings. He had argued with Éowyn a few times for ridiculous reasons. He ladled some of the stew into his bowl and tasted it. He remarked, "Where did your sister learn to cook? I did not think a lady of her rank would learn the art of cookery."
"Mother," said Erchirion and Amrothos at once.
Imrahil chuckled and said, "My wife is strange to Gondorian standards. She believes that a lady should be capable of running a house as well as 'decorating' it. For her, running a house means being at least acquainted with every arena in housekeeping."
"Acquainted as in being able to do it," expostulated Erchirion.
The conversation gradually turned to an animated discussion of individual education experiences. Elphir's entrance interrupted the discussion only for a short moment. Eventually, they finished the meal, cleaned up, and retired to their own beds.
After retiring to bed, Lothíriel slept fitfully for a few hours. She suddenly awoke after a vivid dream of vultures screaming over the bodies of her family. She wiped the perspiration from her brow. For a few minutes, she lay there, staring into the dark and thinking about the last twenty four hours. She never expected actually meet Éomer because all previous encounters were not exactly real. Seeing him in the Houses of Healing scattered her organized thoughts and feelings about him.
"No use lying here," she said to herself, "when my mind very much awake."
She rose and wrapped her robe around her. With her room being the remodeled attic, the steps leading to and from her bedroom door creaked terribly. She tiptoed past her brothers and father's room. The last challenge would be the hallway through the guest quarters. After passing Éomer's room with a beating heart, she made her way to the kitchen. After a soothing cup of tea, Lothíriel went into the armory. She found her father and Éomer's armor sitting on the table, waiting to be cleaned. With an amused smile, she set to work.
Just before dawn, Lothíriel finished cleaning the armor and returned to the kitchen to start breakfast. She stirred the smoldering embers into action and added a log. There were no eggs to be found, so she set a pot of water to boil for oatmeal. Just as the oatmeal was finished cooking, Lothíriel heard her brothers stirring rather loudly. When she quickly set the table, she rang the meal bell.
As the men yawned their way down the stairs, Lothíriel slipped into the large pantry and opened a secret door that led to the linen closet on the second floor. Only a few servants and the women of the house knew of the door.
As she closed the door, Lothíriel heard her brothers asking, "Where did that girl go to now?" With a smile, she whispered in response, "Back to bed because she has been up half the night."
