Sorry for not updating for a few days. I have no excuses. I'll try get it all out before Thursday; if I don't, you'll have to wait a whole summer. Enjoy!

-The Author

As Eowyn insisted on talking in private, there was very little opportunity for the brother and sister to talk. A King in a country not his own is forever being visited, and mostly by various Lords who, conveniently, had a young daughter of age…

How in the world had Eomer found the time to visit Eowyn before?

Finally, Eowyn, who was indeed of age but had no Lordly father to speak up, was granted a private audience, a mere three days before they were set to leave. Eowyn had not had a lot to do in that time, and so was already packed; but Eomer's things were still thrown haphazardly all around his room. Ana, who had accompanied her, stood with twitching hands, staring at the mess.

"I'm not surprised that you wish to talk to me," said Eomer. "I've heard some things about you."

"Really?" Eowyn was surprised.

"Oh, yes," said Eomer. "In the Houses of Healing."

Eowyn and Ana exchanged worried looks. A thousand thoughts flickered through her head at once; that Eomer knew about Faramir; that he seemed awfully calm about it; how long had he known about Faramir?

"You see," Eomer began, "I saw you in the Fields of the Pelennor, and I thought you dead. I came to pay my respects to Uncle and to you. But you weren't there.

Eowyn and Ana looked at each other again. They hadn't heard this part of the tale yet.

"Prince Imrahil told me you were in the Houses of Healing, and we went to visit you. Before I could, we came upon Gandalf, and were soon joined by Aragorn. You, and Merry, and one of the Gondorian lords had all fallen under a sickness. The Shadow, they called it. Aragorn called for a plant they never used, 'athelas,' I think."

"That's used for headaches," said Ana, who seemed to have moved from Eowyn's side. At least, she was closer to a pile of clothing than she had been before. Eowyn blinked; she'd been impatient for the story to end.

"Sure," said Eomer. "Well, he called for some of this weed, and boiled it down and wiped the Gondorian lord with it…now that I recall, it was the Lord Faramir."

Eowyn became ten times more interested now.

"I think it was," said Eomer. "I met him officially sometime last week, after I met up with you," he said. "Amrothos introduced us." He said this name as if Eowyn would recognize it. Before Eowyn could think of a way to ask who Amrothos was, Eomer continued his unexpected little narrative. "The Lord Faramir awoke, and called Aragorn his King, which I think was a stroke of magic, there," he said. "Psychic or something, certainly. And the same thing happened with little Merry, although he awoke and called him friend…but when he called for you, Eowyn, you didn't respond."

Eowyn frowned. This was definitely an unfamiliar part of the tale.

"Aragorn wondered at this. After all, it had worked with Lord Faramir and our favorite Hobbit," Eomer said. "But they said such things about you, Eowyn, Gandalf, and Aragorn. I know of your infatuation with him, Eowyn."

Ana, her hand nearly touching the pile of clothing, stopped at looked surprised at Eowyn. Eowyn blushed and said, "It was a girlish thing, Eomer."

"Aragorn surmised that it wasn't enough," he said. "For you must be called by the voice of one you love to be awoken by the shadow. And Gandalf spoke of all that had happened in Meduseld," said Eomer, sharply, now getting to the point of this monologue. "The things that was said about Rohan! From the lips of our enemy Saruman and the traitor Wormtongue…" Here he repeated some of them, of drunkards and dogs, calling the Golden Hall a barn. Eowyn found it difficult to listen and look at him; she found staring at the clock much more comfortable. She could feel Ana's eyes staring at her. "And he spoke of you," said Eomer, "Of things I hadn't noticed – but I wish I had! Of cages, and loneliness, and despair…"

Eowyn now stared at the ground, rather than look at either Eomer or Ana.

"So I understand," said Eomer, "If you don't wish to return to Edoras. It is why I want you to marry Amrothos, so you can escape."

If Eowyn had not been refusing to look at anything except her feet, she might have looked up and spoken about Faramir; but this was too difficult, and she wasn't quite thinking, now.

"But it is my wish," said Eomer, "That you return with me, just this once, for the burial of our Uncle. And I think he would have wanted you there."

Eowyn's throat was burning, and her vision was blurry. She blinked, and was surprised that liquid came pouring from her eyes, and that she could see better. She was crying.

"Eomer," she said, "I will. I'm already packed."

"Oh," said Eomer. "Then I'm sorry."

There was a pause.

Ana picked up a shirt and began folding it. She sniffed it and shuddered.

Eowyn straightened her mind, remembered why she was here, and began. "Eomer, I wish to talk to you about this marrying thing." She looked at him. He was waiting for her to continue.

What in the world could she say? She didn't want to marry him. For reasons other than just Faramir, she thought. The word "thesis" suddenly popped into her head. She decided not to beat around the bush.

"I don't want to marry him," she said.

"Why not?" Eomer's tone was one of patience. Eowyn clenched her fists inside her skirt. He had been expecting this.

Eowyn decided to get right to it. "He's an idiot," she said.

"I think he has a good sense of humor," said Eomer.

"I think he's an idiot," said Eowyn. "And he's rude. He actually insulted all of womanhood right in front of me. And admitted it."

"If he understands what he's saying, then he's not an idiot."

"But if he has no understanding of the world, then who cares if he knows what he says?"

"He seems to understand everything everyone is saying."

Brother and sister glared at each other. Ana innocently picked up another shirt to fold. Eowyn combed over her mind for another reason not to marry him.

"It seems presumptuous," Eowyn said, "To ask for a woman's hand without ever having met her, offer money for it – money! What am I, a piece of fruit at the market?"

"So he's insulted your womanhood," Eomer waved a hand a bit, as if to say, poo, who cares?

Ana shook a shirt a little harder than she probably meant to. Eowyn gaped at him. She didn't hide her clenched fists behind her skirt. In danger of being beaten to death by his own shirt and his sister's fists, Eomer stood up and backed away and promised to think about it.