Éomer had quickly received assurances of aid from Aragorn, Faramir, and Imrahil, which he found extremely reassuring. The letters from his friends also included stringent rebuffs that he would even consider the possibility that they would not assist him in his need;

Imrahil's assistance had followed his letter fastest, within a week of his letter's arrival, and more to come when more supplies arrived, which Éomer had expected. The opening of the Dimholt Road had opened a quick route between Rohan and Gondor's southern fiefs – foodstuffs and other necessities could be shipped overland or on barges and then carted through the road and then onwards to wherever they were needed. Imrahil had been more than generous, having sent supplies for immediate use as well as seed crops for the spring. Imrahil had also sent a variety of other useful items, ranging from medical supplies to cloth. The party had been guarded by a party of Swan Knights, whose captain also had led the supply train as a whole. What Éomer found most surprising in the shipment was a package of metal pipes, wrapped securely and placed in baskets so they would not suffer mishandling. He had queried Lothíriel about them – since he knew nothing about the pipes' providence, he supposed that she had asked for them – and had been pleasantly shocked by her reply.

It seemed that the royal quarters in Meduseld had the singular honor of having piped-in water for cleaning. Apparently, Morwen Queen had insisted on it as one of the conveniences of rank. When the women had been going through the royal quarters to see what needed refurbishment, they had noticed that the system was still in fairly good shape, but that some of the pipes had suffered greatly due to neglect. The new pipes were replacements, and with a few other odds and ends, would enable Éowyn and Lothíriel, in concert with the other women of the Hall, to finish overhauling the quarters so that he could move in by the end of the week. Lothíriel had warned him that he would have to live through having people in and out of his study to finish up the work there, but she assured him that the people chosen for the job were not only quiet but discreet and as unobtrusive as Rohírs could be.

Several days later, the company from Minas Tirith arrived, with Faramir at their head. They had sent word to Edoras of their impending arrival, so a welcoming party was arrayed on the steps of Meduseld, with Éowyn practically bouncing in excitement to see her betrothed again. Éowyn ran to her betrothed as soon as the party of the recently-proclaimed Prince of Illithien had made it to the steps and dismounted, even before the cup of welcome had been offered, and seized him in an enthusiastic hug, kissing him soundly. Faramir, clearly surprised by this obvious show of affection, quickly recovered, kissing Éowyn back to the wolf-whistles of several people in the crowd. After the pair had separated, Faramir led the Gondorian delegation up the steps to receive the formal welcome of the King of Rohan to the Steward of Gondor.

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The welcome feast – some of the dishes fitting for a guest of the Steward's standing a little impromptu, at least according to Éowyn – was an enjoyable evening. Éomer was pleased to see the soldiers of Gondor and Rohan mingling as well as they were. Faramir, who had the seat next to Éomer, with Éowyn on Faramir's other side, was also holding up well. When the conversation between Éowyn and Faramir lulled, Éomer broke in to sate his curiosity with a question.

"Faramir, why is it that you came to bring the supplies to Rohan yourself? I know that you must be eager to see my sister" – here, Éomer could not keep his mouth twitching slightly with amusement at Faramir's discomfiture – "but surely your duties back in Mundburg and Illithien must be not inconsiderable?" Éomer knew that his question was rather tactless, but it had been bothering him since the Gondorian party had arrived that afternoon. He knew that Faramir would not abrogate his responsibilities in Gondor lightly, so there must be a legitimate reason for the man to be here beyond seeing Éowyn again.

Faramir smiled, and nodded. "As much as I enjoy seeing Éowyn again, and hope to spend some time with her during my stay in Rohan" - Faramir sent a loving look Éowyn's way, which was returned, and Éomer had to work at not sending a harsh word or a blow in the direction of his soon-to-be brother-in-law – "it was, in fact, your grandmother who persuaded me to come here."

Éomer started in surprise. "Grandmother Morwen? But how?"

"You will have to ask Lothíriel – I believe that her actions caused Cousin Morwen to come to Minas Tirith." Faramir craned his neck towards his cousin with a rather sullen stare, causing Lothíriel to blush deeply, an action which roused Eomer's suspicions in itself – Lothíriel did not embarrass easily.

Éomer turned to Lothíriel. "You know my grandmother?" Lothiriel's blush depended, and Éowyn, finishing her conversation with Elfhelm, who sat on her other side, tuned in to what was obviously a hot topic.

Lothíriel was fidgeting in her seat, obviously attempting to get her story straight before speaking. Finally she met Eomer's curious stare.

"You have heard me mention that I spent a summer in Lossarnach with family?" Éomer nodded; the princess had mentioned that that was where she had begun learning Rohírric.

"I … neglected to mention that the cousin in question was your grandmother, my lord. I did not know it at the time, and when I figured it out I did not wish to bring it up." Éomer nodded; likely the princess would have thought that he would not have believed that she was unaware of the connection.

"Do not worry, Princess. I shall forgive you as long as you tell me what you told my grandmother to get her to high herself to Minas Tirith. I knew that she still lives, but I was given to understand that she had retired from the world at large and was living out her last years among her kin in Lossarnach." Éomer smiled at Lothíriel in an attempt to show her that he was not angered at her nondisclosure. She smiled back, obviously relieved.

"I simply told her of Rohan's need, my lord king. To the best of my knowledge Cousin Morwen has always felt Gondor to be more her home than Rohan, but she has always known her duty to her husband's people."

Éomer exhaled heavily. "It is well-known that Morwen Queen, Steelsheen as our people call her, was always more a daughter of Gondor than a lady of Rohan."

Éowyn leaned across the table to grasp Éomer's hand. "Do not worry overmuch, brother. Grandmother has not forgotten Rohan it its need."

Faramir nodded. "Much of the grain and fruit that was being gathered up to be sent was gathered at the lady Morwen's will, Éomer. Your grandmother is … formidable."

Éomer snorted. "Formidable?"

"Quite." said Lothíriel. "In fact, you rather remind me of her in terms of your intensity of character. Though you tend to bully people less than your lady grandmother, my lord king."

Éomer looked at Lothíriel strangely. "I do not know if I should take that as a complement or an insult on my house, my lady."

Lothíriel laughed. "A complement on you and your house, my lord, for lady Morwen is quite likely even now bullying some Gondorian lordling into sending foodstuffs here either for free or at a criminally low price."

Éomer gave Lothíriel a smile. "That is all very well, my lady. I cannot complain about bullying when Rohan benefits." He turned to Faramir. "I assume that Grandmother used these same bullying tactics on you when she arrived in Mundburg."

Faramir, who had obviously not been spending much time outside in the past summer, blushed furiously. This surprised Éomer and roused his curiosity as much as Lothíriel's earlier blush had.

"No, not exactly." Faramir seemed to be remembering the event with a mixture of dismay and consternation about the reaction to it that made Éomer's suspicions rise.

Éowyn poked Faramir in the ribs. "What did she do, Faramir?"

Faramir took a long chug of ale, then spoke, looking into the middle distance, apparently for fear that he would not be able to finish if he had to face anyone while telling his tale. "You know that Erchirion draws fairly well?" Faramir looked around to see general nods of acknowledgement. "Well, before we left to go back to Gondor, I twisted Erchi's leg until he drew some pictures of Éowyn for me." Seeing Éomer's black look, he hurried to add, "Nothing offensive, mind, just what he could do up in the ordinary course of the day without Éowyn noticing."

Éowyn nodded slowly. "I remember seeing Erchirion drawing, but I only remember being the actual model for his talent once – he said he wanted to take a picture of me to show his nephew the brave shield-maiden."

"And that one did make it back to Dol Amroth – it was in one of my letters for Elphir and his family," Lothíriel broke in.

"Erchi is very sneaky. Not as sneaky as Amrothos, but enough to work without being noticed." Faramir seemed especially smug about this familial collusion. Éomer felt the need to take him down a notch or three.

"What do these drawings have to do with my grandmother's presumed wrath?"

Faramir was suddenly very interested in examining the contents of his plate. "I was in the habit of carrying some of the letters with me when I went about my duties in the city – for the purpose of personal fortification, you understand. When the lady Morwen arrived in the city and came up to the Citadel, I was looking at one of the pictures in question while sitting in one of the niches off the pink rose garden on the seventh circle, the one right by the path on the way to the Palace, and –"

"So you were ogling the offending picture in one of the most well-known and highly-visible lovers' nooks in the city and cousin Morwen caught you at it," Lothíriel broke in.

Faramir was practically crimson with shame. "Well, yes."

"You are lucky to be alive, cousin."

Faramir nodded vigorously. "Indeed I am. I thought that I was going to get my bottom reddened, right there in the rose garden. Lady Morwen did, however, tell me off vigorously and then drag me up to the Palace, where she told me off again in front of Aragorn – before being formally introduced to him! – and then insisted I escort the supplies here personally."

Éomer guffawed. "It looks like you should be thankful, Faramir! You got off lightly, and got to see Éowyn as well. I do not remember my grandmother very well – she left Rohan to return to Gondor well before my birth, and her visit back when my mother died was brief. She did not return after that."

"That may not be such a bad thing," Éowyn muttered in Éomer's ear, attempting to alleviate the solemnity of the moment.

Lothíriel had evidently been close enough to overhear Éowyn, for she gave the older woman a hard stare. "You should not dismiss your grandmother so, Éowyn. She has always stood by Rohan. She could very easily have convinced your grandfather to remain in Lossarnach, had she so desired."

Éowyn wilted a little under the other woman's disapproval, murmuring an apology, for all the world sounding like a little girl caught with her hand in a jar of sweets.

Lothíriel gave Éowyn a smile. "I can understand if you do not like your grandmother overmuch, Éowyn. You have not seen her in years, and she is not the most likeable of women. I just do not want to have to give another member of the House of Eorl a black eye for undue impudence towards a daughter of Gondor."

Éomer was caught between laughing at the priceless reaction of the Steward of Gondor – he sputtered, choking on his mouthful of ale – and irritation at Lothíriel for once again putting him in an inconvenient position. Though in this case he rather deserved it – as he had the black eye. The two guardsmen had surely used that story to get free ale for a week, spreading it across Edoras in a flash. The population of Hall and city was split between those who would mock him about it– either directly, like Éothain and Éowyn had, or indirectly, like the bevy of tittering serving maids – and those who ignored it obviously but clearly knew, and let him stew in knowing that they knew. He wasn't sure what reaction to his injury had been most irritating. But no matter what, Lothiriel's standing in the city had improved immensely, especially with the womenfolk, some of whom had been skeptical about the Gondorian princess who had entered their lives in a flurry of change.

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The next morning, Faramir, Éowyn and Lothíriel joined Éomer in his study. They spent the day discussing the movement of people and goods between Rohan and Gondor, events affecting both areas, and issues of note.

The most surprising thing for Éomer was that Lothíriel had decided to stay in Rohan over the winter. He knew that she had originally planned to stay in Rohan over the summer, and he had thought that she would have taken the opportunity to return home with Faramir via Minas Tirith. But apparently she and Éowyn had colluded to decide that she would stay, and Lothíriel had convinced her father to let her. Faramir, seeing a losing battle when he saw one, did not argue overmuch, though he did complain about being dominated by his women-folks, at which point he got two definitively angry glares and promptly shut up. Éomer, despite his commiseration for Faramir's plight, knew better than to argue; Éowyn was exceedingly stubborn when she made up her mind about something, and he had learned that Lothíriel was no better.

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A/N:

Progress!

I am working under the assumption that any large place – be it campus, city, citadel, or whatever, has designated nooks, corners, etc. that are unofficially known as areas where people go for privacy. Faramir is just gormless and does his mooning in a particularly well-known one.

I know that this one is rather short, but it's complete and self-contained, so enjoy.

Review Responses:

Borys68, Guest, LittleNK: Thank you!

Wondereye: Since the story is in Éomer's POV, we can see his interest in Lothíriel better than her interest in him – remember that they are still being very private about their feelings and aren't even sure if they exist!

RZPS: I think that people are getting suspicious. But Éomer is kind of gormless about some things. I am going under the assumption that he has spent a long time mostly in the company of men, so his experience with women, especially noble ladies, is comparatively lacking. Lothíriel may have a better idea. She's a smart chicky.