Respect
The pale man's beady eyes darted up when the great doors were swung open, admitting the newcomers. Two figures strode forward, one in armour, and the other in the garments of a princess.
The figure inclined his head but did not rise from his seat on the stairs. 'Lord Éomer, Lady Éowyn. Is there something you would say to our king?'
'You would be better to stay silent,' snarled the man. 'You have not the right to speak.'
'I have as much right as you,' the man answered softly. 'I also am a man, and I insist that you respect that.'
Éomer snorted. 'A man, you say. Respect, you say! What do you know of the word, foul Wormtongue?'