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Some while after Théoden's speech, Braenna was talking amiably with Gimli and Legolas when Èomer joined them. "The dress does indeed suit the Lady well," he mused, murmuring it close to her ear.
"Methinks the sightly Lord had a say in the selection," she murmured back.
At that moment, Gimli and Legolas began arguing passionately over something trivial, as usual. "Why not settle this over flagons of ale, gentlemen?" Braenna suggested.
Èomer said the mischievous twinkle in her eyes as the two agreed. He briefly wondered if either Dwarf or Elf knew what they had gotten themselves into. Braenna explained the rules as Èomer filled two tankards with ale, placing one before each of the contenders.
"So it's a drinking game?" Legolas asked, unsure as he held up the tankard of ale.
"Precisely, milord," Braenna answered with a slight nod.
Èomer pulled her aside as he began to fill more tankards with ale. "Why are you conducting this?" he asked, clearly amused. "What do you know of drinking such beverages ?"
"Nothing, my Lord. I just have a strong desire to see an elf in a drunken stupor," she replied, smiling broadly, the look of mischief back in her eyes as she carried drinks back over to the two contenders.
After about twenty tankards of ale, Gimli passed out from too much drinking and Legolas was just beginning to feel the tingling in his fingertips. Èomer was left chuckling as Braenna stood in shock at the fact that the drink was just starting to affect the Elf.
A familiar tune picked up and Èomer turned to Braenna. "May I have this dance?" he asked softly. She simply smiled and placed her hand in his. They danced for several songs.
When she announced that she was weary with a large yawn, Èomer escorted her to her room. They stared at each other in the moonlight as she leaned upon the large wooden door leading to her room. Èomer could no longer resist her and pressed his body tightly to hers as their lips met passionately. Braenna felt both of them slip past the point of no return as her hand twisted the door handle and they moved inside the room.
They got as far as her bed before Èomer returned to his senses, springing away from her as though she were on fire. "I cannot," he said simply before leaving the room. Braenna heaved a somewhat relieved sigh and changed into a nightdress that had been laying on the bed. She slept, nothing but dreams of Èomer plaguing her mind the entire night.
When Braenna emerged from her room the next morning, Gandalf had already departed, taking the Halfling known as Pippin with him. She went to the stable to visit her filly, who had been brought to Gondor from Rohan three years ago. She was stroking the filly's long face when Èomer found her.
"She is a beautiful filly," he said softly.
Braenna jumped slightly, not expecting to hear his voice. "I have your people to thank for that. She came into Gondor as a yearling three years ago, a gift from my father after my previous steed was claimed by old age," Braenna revealed.
"What did you name her?" Èomer asked, going into the stall beside her to see to Firefoot, his own stallion.
"Minuialwen," Braenna replied.
"An Elvish name? What does it mean?" he questioned.
"Dawn," Braenna answered. She looked over to see the skeptical look on his face. "It was the time of day in which I first saw her, and her palomino coloring is golden as the sun at dawn. Don't patronize me with your eyes, Èomer, 'tis very unbecoming of you."
He held up his hands in surrender. "If the beacons are lit, all shall ride to Dunharrow. May I suggest you not ride her until such time after the hard ride here?" Èomer voiced.
"Aye, you may. 'Tis a good suggestion," she agreed.
"You will stay with the women and children in Dunharrow until summoned with word from Gondor," he continued.
"I will not!" Braenna exclaimed.
"My Lady, a battlefield holds no place for a woman," Èomer tried to reason.
"I could best any of your eored. Or any soldier between the Riddermark and the very back walls of Minas Tirith, for that matter. Faramir and Boromir know better than to expect me not to know how to fight. Especially against the likes of Sauron's orcs, who kill any person, man, woman, or child, that crosses their paths unarmed," she said angrily.
"Lady Braenna, may I point out that you just mentioned the very reason I wish you to remain in Dunharrow " Èomer asked.
"I'll not stay behind to tend to the people of your land who cannot fight while my own suffer in the Houses of Healing and you ride off to save what remains," Braenna yelled, backing away from Minuialwen.
"Then you should have attended your maddening father and suffering people in Gondor and never ridden here!" Èomer shouted back, his temper getting the best of him once more.
Silence fell between them. Èomer looked at her to see the tears in her eyes. "I rode here seeking help for the remains of my family, nothing more. Not even for me, but for my father and for Faramir. Particularly for Faramir. I thought you would have done the same had Gandalf been in Gondor at such a time when your uncle was stricken into madness and you thought Èowyn's life to be on the brink of death. I believed that you, of all people my Lord Èomer, would understand. I was wrong, and I curse the day I ever met you," she said. Her voice was a deadly calm and quiet.
Èomer stood rooted to the spot as she turned and walked out. Aragorn looked at her as she stormed past him. He could sense that her anger was due to Èomer and let her pass without a word.