Summer soon came to Rohan, and with it the sadness and icy exterior that had consumed Éowyn in the days before the war ended. Éomer continued to watch her with concern, but whenever he pressed the matter, she would simply force a smile and tell him that everything was all right. "I fear for our people, that is all," she would say, and so they continued their duties, but spoke no more of personal matters. The issue stood between them like a wall, though neither would acknowledge its presence. Again Gandalf's words ran through Éomer's mind, and he was troubled.

Brother and sister turned their attentions again to the needs of their people. No reply came from Gondor for several weeks and though none was expected so soon the days of waiting seemed long nonetheless. The time came for Éomer to return to Minas Tirith with the escort to bring King Théoden back for burial in Edoras. Early on the morning he was to leave, Éomer went to his sister's room to say goodbye.

Expecting to find her still asleep, Éomer knocked softly and entered the room. Instead he found Éowyn sitting fully dressed atop her bed, staring out the open window, watching as the morning light grew in the East. With her knees pulled up against her chest and her arms wrapped around them, Éomer thought that his sister looked almost like a lost child rather than the hero and leader that she was. She looked up at him and he could see that the light that had shone in her eyes when he returned from Cormallen was gone again. Though she smiled up at him, Éowyn looked weary and worn, the smile forced. "Are you leaving?" she asked quietly, starting to get up. In an instant the sad look Éomer had seen in his sister's eyes disappeared, her countenance replaced by the cold strength that she showed to the world. Contentment was merely a mask that Éowyn wore and Éomer had seen behind it, even if only for a moment.

Éowyn looked at her brother expectantly as she stood up and Éomer remembered that she had asked him a question. "Soon enough," he replied as he stared over her shoulder, wanting to understand what was wrong but not sure how to ask. "You are not happy, Éowyn," he said at length, "You may fool others with your forced smiles, but I can see it in your eyes."

"I don't know what you're talking about, I'm fine," she replied, crossing her arms and trying to sound natural. Éowyn did not want the wall she had built around herself to crumble, for she felt that it was the only thing holding her up.

"Are you . are you feeling the effects of the battle still? Perhaps you left the care of the healers too soon. You should get more rest," Éomer stammered. Perhaps, he thought, she was plagued by the memory of war, as he had been. As he still was. But Éomer did not know how to put such things into words as his sister could, so his awkward question hung in the air.

"No, Éomer," Éowyn replied sharply, "I told you already: I am fine. Perhaps I will sleep more at ease when I know that our people will not starve this winter. Perhaps then I, too, can ride about the countryside." Éomer felt the cut of her words acutely but said nothing. The tone in Éowyn's voice told him to change the subject or risk retaliation. Éomer was at a total loss. Had his sister instead been threatened by a horde of orcs, then he could have fought his way through with his sword. If he could ride his horse 100 leagues and back to somehow make her happy, it would already be done. Éomer could not, however, use words to ease his sister's pain nor even determine what caused it. It was easier for him to cross the threshold of Mordor than to pierce the icy walls that surrounded Éowyn's heart.

Footsteps echoed down the hall and a rider appeared at the door. "Éomer King, the horses are ready, sir, if you are. Éomer dismissed the man, but still stood awkwardly in his sister's doorway. Silently Éowyn walked up and hugged her brother. "Be careful," she said, "the road to Minas Tirith is still dangerous."

"It is a fine day for a ride, though," Éomer answered, stepping back. "I will see you soon." He placed his hand on Éowyn's shoulder and stared at her, trying one last time to think of the right way to lessen the sadness he had seen in her eyes. "Good bye, Éomer," she answered. With that, it was Éomer who forced a smile as he left. Both brother and sister felt ill at ease, knowing that they had failed to understand each other once more. Éomer reproached himself for leaving without saying what he had wanted to say. He did not know that Éowyn, watching his departure from the doors of Meduseld, was angry with herself for the same reason.