Imrahil watched his daughter with her new lord as they shared their first dance as man and wife, impressed that the young King had bothered to learn a dance of Dol Amroth, and further impressed that he had somehow contrived to learn Lothíriel's favourite dance.
Éomer had probably simply asked Lothíriel which was her favourite, Imrahil thought wryly. Very straight-forward, were these Rohirrim.
Then he caught sight of Éowyn smiling as she critically watched her brother's feet, and guessed that she had likely been the one to teach Éomer King that particular dance, and additionally, judging by his nephew's matching smile, that Faramir had told Éomer which was Lothíriel's favourite.
This small show of thoughtfulness touched Imrahil deeply, easing a paternal worry in his heart that all of Lothíriel's obvious joy had not been able to relieve. She is in good hands, he thought, pleased in the moment, warmed by the happiness that shone from his daughter's beaming face as she gazed into Éomer's eyes, both oblivious to anyone else in the room . He will treat her as she deserves to be treated. He will treat her as a queen.
Though his father's heart could not help but add, Or I will know the reason.
