I remember my first beau. Well, I remember some things about him. I don't remember his name or his farm, but I do remember his bright red hair and cheerful grin. I was maybe fifteen at the time, and we danced twice at a town celebration. He walked me home after that and my older sister teased me that he was my beau. After that we danced at all of the parties and he came over sometimes during the lunch hour to bring me an apple or some other little treat. I was fond of him, but mostly I think I loved the idea of love. It is exhilarating, having someone think that you are the most special person on earth. I don't really remember when he stopped being my beau or why, but I never had another really serious beau. Life was becoming too serious for that. But I remember that red-headed boy. He always had a red handkerchief in his back pocket and he would mop his forehead with it after we danced a fast dance. I always thought he looked all red then, his face and hair and that handkerchief.
What I felt for Éomer ran much deeper than the way I felt for that red-headed boy. I still had the same exhilaration, the speedy pulse and the blushes, but under all of that was something more serious than puppy love. I found that I wanted to do good things for him, just to see him smile. Sometimes I would allow myself to daydream of what it would be like to marry him and remain with him forever. I fit into his life already. I looked like his people and I was used to hard work. I see now that I was defending a position I knew I would lose. But I'm jumping ahead of the story now.
I remember the first time he kissed me. We were out riding together, and stopped for a drink at a little stream. We started teasing and he playfully bent down to lap up the water like a dog. I couldn't resist giving him the tiniest little kick that sent him tumbling into the stream. He played angry and growled as he chased me around to throw me into the stream. When he caught me I saw something changed in his eyes. The laughter faded and we looked at each other silently. Then slowly, slowly he lowered his lips to mine. I trembled with joy. It was wonderful. I put my arms around him and he held me closely. It was a very serious kiss. I had never been kissed that way before. When we broke apart I was embarrassed and started blushing, but he had a satisfied smile on his face. My grandmother would say that he looked like the cat that got into the cream. Our relationship continued to develop this way until I had another dream.